Discovered
by Rand0m-H0use
Summary: The nations are arguing as usual in a random world meeting. But what if a phone call could change them into a bunch of pariah ? *Featuring nearly the whole Hetalia staff, no pairing*
1. Prologue

**A/N : This is my first fanfic. I hope you'll like it.**  
**Will contain violence, temporary character deaths, historical reference, brotherhood, friendship and snapped Canada. Probably no yaoi (sorry fangirls).**

**The first chapters are quite short... This one is more of a prologue.**

**PS : J'ai traduit ce chapitre en français, si quelqu'un demande je le posterai.**

* * *

"So, let's talk about economic situation in Spain. I'm sure everyone will agree that a hero will appear and save him from economic troubles. I'll accept no objection"

"I agree with Ameri…"

"Japan ! I've already told it to you thousands of times ! Give your own opinion !"

"I disagree. This idea is completely stupid."

"I disagree with England _and_ America."

"Ey ! We're debating about my economic situation, so let's talk seriously !"

"This doesn't matter since you're all become one with Russia. _Da ?_"

"No we won't, fatass ! I'm too awesome for that !"

"Call me once again like that and you'll be painfully aware of your status of former nation."

"What are you doing here at the first place, beer bastard !?"

"Same goes for you, Italy's brother."

"_Bastardo_ ! I'll shoot you 'til you're dead !"

"B-big brother, don't be so mean, ve !"

"Shut up ! All of that is your fault anyway !"

"Vee ! Germany ! Japan ! I'm scared !"

"Well, in view of the fact that all the people who disagree are fighting, this problem is resolved."

"¿ _Qué_ ?"

"Now, let's talk about Greece's econo" – Driiiing !

Everybody stopped talking/arguing/fighting/soliloquizing/sulking/annoying his neighbor.

"Eh, Japan… Is it yours ..?"

The little country flushed with shame.

"I'm trury sorry, I was sure I turned it off…" he said while checking his phone. "Eh ? It isn't mine, it's off, like I said."

"Japan, I'm sure it came from you, aru. And I'm sat next to you, aru."

"Ah, in this instance it may be… my phone for emergencies."

The silent in the room became heavier. Each country had a phone which was always on, in case of declaration of war or terrorist attack.

"Oh… _Kuso_."

"What happened, aru ? Did North Korea launch a nuclear bomb, aru ?"

"It's worse."

"Worse !?"

"I think I wourd prefer war against Russia than this."

Everybody stared as the little Asiatic country. Something worse than _a war against Russia _? The only time Japan had went so pale was at the tragic end of WW2 that doesn't need to be described. Even Ivan didn't make a comment about Kiku becoming one with him.

"I'm pretty sure you'rr receive the information in a few minutes, but I'rr sum it up. An internationar independent association has been inquiring into us for years. They found prove of our existence. They contacted the media of different countries. Everybody knows who we are now."

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**Kuso (japanese) : sh*t**

**A/N : Yeah I finally posted it.**  
**Thanks for Magica1Ninja on Deviantart who checks my grammar.**

**Edit (28/02/13) : Oh the grammar error. I wrote "seated" instead of "sat". And I notice it only now !?**

**Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**  
**This fanfiction is mine.**


	2. Negociations

"That's a completely unawesome situation !"

Prussia was sat against the wall, mumbling untraductable things in German. Austria was about to tell him to shut up when another noisy country intervened.

"I agree ! To be barricaded in a house to avoid to be arrested by _my own government _isn't something a hero like me would have to do !"

Yes. The Austrian had to agree. Their actual situation truly got on his nerves. The United Nations wanted them to publicly confirm their nature (how hypocrite of them, they all knew who they were, they were just acting like if they didn't to save face). Journalists were coming from all over the world. The US army (they were at Washington) had to evacuate the area around the building they were to avoid a riot. And, mainly, they were thirty-one persons barricaded into a single room : the American brothers, twenty-seven European nations and two Asiatic countries. If there were something he had better remember, it was to not put thirty-one nervous nations in the same room. And even less let them that way during two hours.

A ring made Austria coming back to reality. All the conversations stopped and everybody gathered around America's phone. Alfred picked up.

"Hello, this is Ban Ki- moon, the…"

"Secretary-General of UNO, we know. What do you want ?"

Austria sighed with annoyance. Interrupting the person who was probably the only one able to resolve their problems wasn't a good idea. Was the American unable to understand that ?

"We want to negotiate. We know about your existence. We're all implicated. We can still say to the journalist that this story was a swindle."

"We want to negotiate too." Germany said. "Nobody here wants this situation to degenerate."

"But we can't just act as usual, or somebody will understand that you knew about our existence." England intervened.

"This would cause an even bigger scandal, aru..."

"I suggest talking about this just in front of the house. The army had cleared the area, so we won't have any problem with journalists, and if somebody among you tell something to the media, it will look just like a normal procedure."

"I think it's better to send only one negotiator. We could talk to them with a cell phone" Switzerland added. "And we have weapons with us. We both can post snipers."

"Are snipers really indispensable..?" another voice came from the phone.

"Oh, buongiorno Boss !" Italy greets. "Ve, how many are you there on phone ?"

"For now, the G8's bosses, plus China's. We're contacting the others ones." the Secretary answered.

"And about your question, it's just to be on the safe side." Switzerland said. "It's an unprecedented situation, we've better be prudent. Not that we don't trust you, but there are hundreds of reasons for somebody to wish us dead."

"Understood. Now, about the negotiations. How will you choose the country you'll send ?"

"Drawing lots is probably the better way…"

"Well. When will the negotiations take place ?"

"The sooner the better... But you have to gather everybody's bosses. Tomorrow at 10 AM should be OK."

"All right. Something else ?"

"Nothing…"

"Yes, something ! Can we send somebody to take some food ? I'm hungry !"

"Alfred, you're always hungry." England replied.

"He's always hungry, but he's right, big eyebrows. If we have to stay here until tomorrow morning, we'll need to eat."

"You're always thinking about food too, you frog."

"You just don't want to admit you're wrong…"

"Stop ! You won't start a fight now ? We're in big trouble." Austria interrupted. "Furthermore, I agree with France, we'll have to eat. I think it's all right if we send neutral countries…"

"We'll get food for you. We'll put it in front of the house. But we have to know who will come and take it."

"Me and Liechtenstein can do it." Switzerland said.

"Perfect. I think it'll be ready in an hour. See you tomorrow."

Hereupon, Ban Ki- moon hung up.

Austria sighed up in relief. If they managed to pass this story as a swindle, everything would end quietly.

"We'll talk about those negotiations after the dinner." America spoke up, sitting on the floor. "I'm fucking hungry and my brain can't work correctly."

"This explains so much..."

"Did you say something, Iggy ?"

"Nothing..."

* * *

**Thanks for Magica1Ninja on dA who checks my grammar.**

**Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**  
**This fiction is mine.**


	3. Blunder

"Good luck, Austria" Greece said with his blank voice.

"Thanks. I'll need it."

Yes, he would need it. He was about to come out from the house without anything planned and meet the negotiator the UNO had sent.

Austria had never been lucky.

In principle, there was no risk. Canada and America both had guns aimed at the human outside. If something wrong happened, there would be victims from both sides. The UNO had no intention to attack them.

But he had a feeling that something bad was going to happen.

"We must hush up this scandal. I don't think I'll be able to stand on guard one day more with Greece." Turkey added with an angry voice.

The Austrian sighed. He would have said the same thing if it was him and Prussia instead of Greece and Turkey. Why the two of them were keeping watch together at the first place !? Oh Yeah. They had drawn lot. It didn't seem to be a good idea anymore.

He walked to the door, opened it and went out. He walked a few meters away from the building to meet a middle-aged man with a black suit. _It looks more like a meeting with the Mafia than negotiations with the UNO… _Austria thought. Although, the human in front of him was obviously nervous. Not the right time to drop a brick.

"Hello" Roderich began." I'm … the personification of Austria."

"Austria…" the man repeated.

Said country frowned. As nervous as the man was, he was a professional negotiator. He wasn't supposed to hesitate. Especially in that kind of situation.

Something was wrong.

"I'm sorry."

Like the scene was in slow motion, Roderich saw the man's hand going to his pocket and taking out a gun.

The nation wanted to run. To flee. To avoid the shooting.

But he was too close.

The man shot.

Austria didn't fall immediately. He was still on his feet while his lungs filled up with his blood. He heard somebody shouting. Then a shot. Then the man him front of him falling.

And finally, no longer able to breathe, he collapsed.

* * *

Wow this is very short ! I promise next chapters will be longer.

Thanks for Magica1Ninja on dA who checks my grammar.

Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
This fanfiction is mine.


	4. Humans

"We must go away from here."

England's voice resounded in the room. The ones who weren't busy comforting the nations the more sensitive glanced at him with tired eyes. Only America was energetic enough to answer him.

"Are you kidding ? A hero like me never flees ! There must be another solution !"

Neglecting a sobbing Ukraine for a second, Russia spoke up.

"Amerika, we won't _flee_. It will be a strategic retreat. But if you have any better option, say it now."

"We can go out and… discuss ? Austria isn't really dead, it's only his human body which died, he'll wake up if we remove this bullet from his lungs…"

"Give up" Spain intervened. "I'm pretty sure the man who killed Austria was manipulated."

"So what ?"

"America, you're slow. That mean there are humans, organized ones, probably a mafia or something like that, who wish us dead."

"You seem pretty well informed about this, Switzerland."

"This isn't the first time it's happened."

Half of the audience suddenly seemed to wake up. Everybody glanced at Switzerland's little sister.

"N… not the first time ? I've never about heard something like that before !"

"You hadn't been discovered yet when it happened. And it concerned only the nation around big brother and me. Everybody has nearly forgotten this story."

"What happened ?"

"My country has few inhabitants. They realized that I never changed. Rumors about me spread. Because I'm always with big brother, rumors about him started too. Then, they were stories about Austria, Hungary, Prussia and even Italy and France."

"And how did it stop ?"

"We destroyed the evidence, went away for a few months and rumors stopped just like that."

"You did nothing !?"

"Our existences are completely anti-scientific. After a few weeks, humans began to think it was an hoax, or a lie from their government, or the dogma of a new sect, or others silly explanations like that. Humans have a gift for finding explanation for things which hasn't."

Hungary sighed. She remembered this story. The way they were chased after by their own citizens… It was frightening. Happily, human weaponry wasn't very advanced at that time. With the weapons they had now, destroy the evidence was going to be much more difficult.

Humans had a gift for inventing more and more destruction tools too.

* * *

Thanks for Magica1Ninja on dA who checks my grammar.

Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
This fanfiction is mine.


	5. Useless

"So, debriefing time. First of all, who can we trust ?"

"Only ourselves. We can't predict the reaction a human can have if we implicate him." Denmark answered.

"You're probably right… Secondly, what must we do ?"

"First of arr, find where the evidences are hided. Secondry, destroy them. Thirdry, dismantre this association." Japan summarized.

"OK, now how many weapons do we have…"

Hungary stopped listening. She was about to cry. She couldn't stop thinking about Austria.

Prussia and a few other nations were debating about the proper things to do. Prussia, even if he was no longer a country, had a gift for strategy. His experience was most valuable in their situation…

She was feeling so useless.

"We can go out by going by the sewer." America suggested.

"I don't think staying at your place is a good idea, Alfred. Mine is the nearest, we can go there"

Hungary blinked. Who was the guy who has just spoken ?

"Who are you ?" America asked.

"Canada, your little brother." the guy answered.

"Yes, Matt ! I remember now ! Oh, I didn't forget you, of course…" Alfred added when he noticed the way France and Prussia glanced at him.

Hmmm, Canada… The country at the north of America, right ? Even he got involved.

"We'll go past the sewer. Switzerland, can you distribute the rifles, please ?"

An explosion drowned out Vash's answer. Reacting immediately, Japan called Greece and Turkey who were still keeping watch.

"Greece ! Turkey ! What happened ?"

"Fifteen… No, twenty soldiers have just blown up the door !"

"Don't stay there ! Come here !" Japan shouted in his phone, probably destroying Greece's eardrums.

"Everybody! Take a riffle and flee by the sewer !" Germany shouted, collecting his wits.

It was a rush. Italy began to cry. Everybody was messing around the table where Prussia and Switzerland had put the guns. Japan was trying to contact Turkey and Greece again.

Finally, Russia and Sweden managed to open the manhole, despite the disorder around them, and the nations began to evacuate.

Hungary looked at the disorder with a blank expression on the face.

She didn't want to follow them. Seeing as she was unable to think properly, she would be useless. And the last thing she wanted was the other countries' pity.

"Greece ! Turkey ! Can you hear me ?" Japan shouted in his phone.

She didn't exactly understand what happened afterwards.

She grabbed a rifle, went out and ran through the corridors until she met two panicked nations running away from the hall.

She saw soldiers, probably American ones, walking through a dust cloud, a bit surprised to see a mad woman with an AK-47 running towards them.

_And now._

_What am I doing here at the first place._

_Not the right time to think. Just do something useful._

_Spare time. For everybody else._

_JUST SHOOT, BITCH !_

"SZABADSÁG !" She shouted while she began to shot without taking the trouble to aim.

The soldier's reacted half a second later. Bullets tore her arms, wounded her legs, pierced through her chest. She didn't mind. She was just killing.

She didn't hear Turkey's voice shouting her name. She didn't think about the nations in the meeting room which were having a row about why they had let her gone. Neither did she see the bullet which passed through her head.

* * *

Szabadsàg (hungarian) : Liberty

Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
This fanfiction is mine.


	6. Prayers

_A bit earlier…_

"Hey ! Don't fall asleep, lazy !"

"I'm not asleep. I was thinking about our situation."

Turkey sighed. He had been on guard with Greece for the whole day, since nobody had taken the trouble to relieve them after the "negotiations". As a consequence, he had been with the man he hated the most for hours. And they wasn't even a comfy seat in the hall they were, since they had barricaded the front door with all the furniture pieces they had found. All he could do was to sit on the cold tiles and rest his back against the wall.

"And which great philosophical speech did you invent ?" the Turk asked with an angry voice.

"We must stay united. We will stay united."

"How can you be that sure ?"

"History has taught us even your sworn enemy becomes your greatest ally when a more powerful enemy threats both of you. For example, England and France were allies in both World Wars, and…"

Turkey put his hands on his ears. He hated Greece's boring voice. Despite of that, his reasoning was pretty intelligent – which only made his anger grow. He had never won any verbal fight against the Greek.

… He felt the urgent need to hit him.

His dark thoughts were interrupted by an explosion. The front door and all the tables, chairs and shelves which were before it flew away and landed all over the room. A bit dizzy, Turkey grabbed his gun and aimed at the American soldiers who were walking into the room. He shot and, taking advantage of their surprise - they probably didn't think they would have to deal with guards- ran away through the corridor, Greece behind him.

"I've just contacted Japan. We must reach the meeting room." Heracles said when they stopped in a corner.

Turkey blinked. How the hell this man was able to keep such an inexpressive voice in their situation ?

Noises from the corridor they came from advised him to think about run rather than try to answer this question. He fired haphazardly then followed Greece who had already left. Why were the buildings the meetings took place always huge houses ? The meeting room was so far from the hall, and the soldiers were gaining ground…

A mad Hungary suddenly appeared on their way. She didn't even noticed them and threw herself into the battle.

"Miss Hungary !" the Turk shouted .

He was turning around to help her when something grabbed his arm.

"Turkey ! Let her ! She went here alone, she doesn't want us to help her !" Greece said.

Sadiq hesitated a second. The young woman didn't deserve to die like that. But she was strong; she had gone through many wars and fought against many nations. If he went and helped her, Turkey would not only be useless, but he would hurt her pride. He clenched his teeth. Why did he always have to do choices like that.

He eventually nodded and started running again. Greece and he reached stairs, but while he was going upstairs, he stumbled and fell. Heracles didn't see it and kept moving. Cursing the Greek (despite he wasn't responsible at all for Turkey's misfortune), he tried to stand up and felt a sharp pain in his left leg.

His ankle was twisted.

He couldn't run anymore.

Greece was far away now.

Sadiq heard steps from the corridor. Hungary was dead.

And he was going to be the next one.

He turned to the door, aimed at the entrance and began to pray in an undertone. Turkey had been Muslim for centuries. He didn't pray for being able to kill lot of soldiers or to be killed without pain – it would be selfish request. He prayed for the human he was about to kill, and for the personified nations who were going to have to resolve their troubles.

The American soldiers went into the room.

Sadiq was ready. He shot. He shot until a bullet went through his head, definitely interrupting his prayers.

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**A/N : Thanks for Magica1Ninja on dA who fixed my grammar.**

**Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**  
**This fiction is mine.**


	7. Bombs

Japan was watching the last nations rushing into the manhole. Despite that they were still nervous , they were all doing their best to stay quiet.

"Japan, are you coming ?" Germany said when they were the only ones left.

"I'rr wait for Greece and Turkey. Go ahead, we'rr meet you rater."

Ludwig nodded and followed the others. A few seconds later, Kiku sighed in relief while a breathless Greece went into the room. But his anxiety came back since he didn't see Turkey.

"Where is…" he began, but the Greek interrupted him.

"Ah… I- I'm sorry Japan… I thought he was behind me, when I heard shots and shouting… He's probably…"

Japan closed his eyes. Another one dead. What's more, one of his best friends. Austria, Hungary, Turkey… Who would be the next one ?

"Japan, I'm sorry, it's my fault, I didn't noticed anything, I- "

"No, Greece, it's not your faurt. Now ret's go. The sordiers wirr be here soon."

"Thanks… You're right, we had better – cough ! – leave."

"Are you arr right ?"

"Yes, don't – cough ! cough ! – bother, it's just a cold. My economy is in a bad shape right now. I try to hide it when I'm with others nations, so they don't think I'm weak, and…"

The rest of his sentence was lost in a coughing fit. Heracles smiled to reassure Kiku, then made his way towards the manhole.

"Japan, are you coming ?"

"There is something I must do first. I'rr meet you rater." the little country answered.

Greece hesitated for a second, then disappeared into the sewer. Japan waited until he no longer heard his friend's coughs, then headed for a box he had seen before. He had little time : even if the soldiers had to check each room since the Greek shook them off, they would be here soon.

He opened the box and smiled. It was some C4, as he thought. America was probably the only country who kept this kind of explosive in a meeting room, which was supposed to be a room where you debate about peace (even if it often finished with a fight between France and England). With an unintentional creepy smile, Japan took out the loads of C4 from the box and began to connect them with electrical cords. His movements were confident and organized. He had already done this so many times. Perhaps too many times.

A few minutes later, he set the bombs in the room and the corridor. While he was wondering how far the others nations were now, he heard steps. He glanced at the detonator in his hand. He hadn't had enough time to put on a longer cord. The steps were coming closer.

"Sorry, Turkey. Good ruck, Greece, China."

Japan pushed the button.

He had done a great job when he had set the bombs. The walls were destroyed. Since they were on the ground floor, the whole building collapsed, and a torrent of flames and rubble turned everything and everyone into ashes.

* * *

Thanks for vampirelily6786 on dA who fixed my grammar.

Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
This fiction is mine.


	8. Sewer

BTOOOM !

A powerful draught passed in the sewer, increasing the pressure on Norway's eardrums. The cold nation quickly put his hands over his ears, it hurt ! He saw the others countries doing the same. Puffin and Gilbird squeaked, since they couldn't cover their own (or whatever they used as ears). The Norwegian even saw a _polar bear_ putting his paws on his head in order to protect his eardrums.  
A few seconds later, the draught ceased.

"What has just happened ?" America asked.

Nobody answered. They were all wondering the same thing.  
Quick steps suddenly resounded in the sewer. Each of them grabbed a weapon, but they relaxed when a panting Greece came out from the darkness.

"Greece !" Alfred shouted. "What was that ? An explosion ?"

Heracles took his breath, then answered.  
"J-Japan… He said he – cough ! – had something to do… He said he would meet me lat– cough ! – later… I'm sorry… I didn't think he would do something like that… It's – cough ! – my – cough ! cough ! – fault – cough !"

His last sentences were drowned in a coughing fit. Nobody minded though : they were all dismayed.

"Kiku's dead ? KIKU'S DEAD !? That can't be, aru !"

"China…" Finland began, but Yao ignored him.

"And you, you damn Greek ! You're useless, aru ! Your economy is a mess, your army is weak, you're always fighting with Turkey (where is this bastard, by the way ?), and you're unable to protect your friends, aru !"

"China, stop ! That's not his fault !" Spain shouted.

"That's your fault ! YOUR F- Mmmm mm !"

Russia had just caught the Chinese's arms and covered his mouth with his hand.

"China," he began with a soft (and creepy) voice, "If Greece was able to stop Japan, you were too, da ? So why didn't you ?"

Yao stopped struggling and glanced at Ivan's face, then collapsed. The Russian let him fall on the floor, shaking and sobbing. Next to America, Heracles sat down and buried his head in his arms, trying to hide his usually blank face twisted in pain and sadness. _And probably remorse,_Norway thought. During a whole minute which looked like an hour, only China's tears were resounding in the dark sewer.

"Puffin, don't fish here ! It's not edible !"

Iceland's shout broke the silence. A few nations smiled, Denmark even giggled.

"Ey, Ice, be careful not to slip." Norway warned him.

"I'm not a child anymore !"

"You're still my lil bro, and I don't want you to be hurt."

"You're speaking like Den."

Norway didn't react at first, then mumbled :  
"That was quite rough, Ice…"

"How am I supposed to understand that ?" the Danish asked.

Belgium was doing his best not to giggle. Spain didn't restrain himself and laughed loudly. America did the same, and even Germany smiled. The atmosphere lightened.

"See, Greece ?" England said. "Our situation isn't that terrible. We're still able to laugh."

" 'm sorry t'disturb ya, b't w'must go on."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm comi- iiiiiiing !?"

Norway slipped on an oily puddle. He lost his balance and… fell directly in the canal behind him.

"Norway !" Denmark and Iceland shouted together.

Everybody stared at the dirty water, waiting for the Norwegian to reappear.  
He didn't.  
His head had bumped edge of the canal when he had fallen. Too dizzy to think straight, the first thing he did was breath. A horrible greasy liquid filled his lungs. He tried to cough, but he couldn't. He was unable to swim towards the surface, he didn't even know where the top and the bottom were !

_I don't want to die,_ he thought while he was slowly drowning. _Not now, we have enough problems ! Not in this pitiful way ! Not in this disgusting liquid ! Not in a _sewer _!_

A sharp pain tore his head and his thorax, interrupting his thoughts. Slowly dying, he saw Denmark's silhouette jumping in the canal, trying to find his brother. But the stream had already swept his corpse away.


	9. Enough

Denmark saw his brother's corpse going away. He nearly drowned as he realized it was too late. He swam towards the surface and went out from the water. He looked at the nations gathered around him, then shook his head to answer their mute question.

"Sorry. Too late." he said, trying to hide his shaking voice.

Finland burst into tears. Sweden took him in his arms. Iceland began to cry silently.

Denmark glanced at them. The only thing he wanted to do was to cry with them and pray to wake up from this nightmare. But he couldn't : he was their elder brother, he had to keep thinking straight. This wasn't a dream, this was the reality, and they had to manage on their own.

"They'll find the corpse. They'll understand we're inside the sewer. We'd better leave."

Germany gulped, then approved :

"You're right, we'll cry later. First of all, we must g-"

"NO !"

Everybody turned to the origin of the shout : a crying, sobbing, shaking but nevertheless completely mad Italy. Ludwig didn't finish his sentence. He was far too surprised.

"I," the Italian began, "refuse. to. move. from. here. until we have a plan ! Austria, Hungary, Turkey Japan, Norway, do you want another dead !? That's what will happen, if we just flee without knowing where we must go !"

Denmark blinked. Did he misunderstand something ? Was there a fault in the space-time continuum ? Not only Feliciano was angry, but what he had just said was quite pertinent.

During a long minute, the silent was complete. They could have heard a pin drop. Even Belarus, Sweden and Greece – who had stopped to cry – were revealing shocked expressions.

Liechtenstein was the first one to react.

"He's right. We can't let somebody else die."

"Let's organize ourselves. We must destroy the pieces of evidence, but where are they hidden ?" Prussia spoke up.

"I've a computer with me." Estonia intervened. "I can pirate any website which reveal our identities, then find where the information came from."

"How much time do you need ?"

"I don't know, it depends on how many pieces of evidence they have. At least two hours, probably more."

"I'll help you, I took my laptop when we ran away." Switzerland's little sister added.

"Ah, but I don't think we can connect to the Internet from here…" the Estonian pointed out.

"Ey, where do you think you are ?" America protested. "In Washington ! My capital ! You can connect to the Internet from anywhere, even a sewer !"

England sighed, Russia rolled his eyes, and Denmark guffawed. That wasn't unexpected from the American. Estonia and Liechtenstein began to work.

"America." Spain asked. "How long is this canal ?"

"You mean, when will the human find Norway's corpse ? Within five or six hours, perhaps more if it rains."

"In this case, some of us must go out and get some food. We'll need it."

"I can do it ! I can run very fast when I must flee, ve !"

"Italy, do you think it's a good idea ?"

"Don't worry, Germany ! I'll be all right ! I learnt how to lace my shoes, and I want to be useful."

"I- I think I can do it too, I 'm quite discreet…"

Denmark was wondering why was Italy speaking about his shoes when he noticed the guy with the polar bear. Who was he ? He had never seen him before… Maybe a new country, or a region ?

"Who are you ?"

"Canada." he simply answered, like if he was used to hearing this question.

The shy nation met Feliciano and a few others countries who were debating with America about where they would get (translate as "steal") some food.

Denmark yawned. He felt so tired. It was only 9 PM at his place, but so many things had happened. He cuddled against the wall and, and, while trying to forget the horrible odor his clothes have been giving off since he jumped in the canal, he fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**Thanks for vampirelily6786 on dA who fixed my grammar.**

**Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**  
**This fanfiction is mine.**

**Edit (09/02/13) : Changed the hour at the end, it was wrong. ^^;**


	10. Nerves

The manhole cover lifted and Canada's head appeared. Matthew looked around, waited a few seconds, then came out from the sewer. Latvia, Finland, Italy and Belgium followed him. The Canadian stepped forward in the dark alley without taking the trouble to be silent : nobody would notice him anyway. He stopped at a corner, waited until he was sure nobody was coming and waved for the others nations to meet him. Relying on a map Alfred had scribbled earlier, they walked in the dirty streets, hiding behind a car or a dustbin when they met somebody. Happily, the few humans they saw were drunker than England at a Russian bar. Finally, they reached the backyard of a supermarket. Canada posted himself at the entry of the dead-end in order to warn his teammates if anybody came.

Belgium opened one of the dustbins in front of them. It contained several pounds of food still edible, thrown like scraps only because their eat-by dates were approaching._ What a waste,_ the young woman thought. _Millions of humans are hungry, and we throw some food just like that._She knew it was the same in Europe. Sighing, she began to fill the bag she had taken with her. Next to her, the others countries did the same.

A few minutes later, their bags full, the group of nations went back to the sewer. They were on the way back when Canada, who was ahead them, waved them to hide. They ran to a car and sat down behind it. Matthew, as invisible as usual, stayed where he was when a police car went past the alley, passing without seeing them. Belgium was about to sigh in relief when the car slowed down. _No,_ she thought. _Go on. Don't stop._ The car stopped. _Start again._ The doors opened. Two policemen went out. _Go away._ They walked toward the cars, complaining about how annoying their job was sometimes. _Don't come here._The policemen came closer.

That was too much fear for Italy. Crying, he grabbed his bag and ran away, drawing the policemen's attention.

"Ey, you ! Stop !" one of them shouted.

The Italian didn't. Finland grabbed an empty bottle in the gutter and threw it at the man, hitting him in the face, then quickly stood up and followed Feliciano. Belgium and Latvia did the same, but the second policeman aimed at them with a gun and had enough time to shoot twice before a bullet from Canada passed through his head. The first shot missed his target, but the second one went through Raivis' leg. Matthew ran towards him and took him on his back while the Belgian grabbed his bag. Leaving a dead policeman and a wounded one behind them, they met Finland at the manhole. Tino tied a tourniquet around Latvia's leg, then helped the Canadian to pull him in the sewer.

When the whole party was inside, Belgium took her breath and tried to slow her heartbeat down. So many emotions. She put her bags with the others ones and sat against the wall, looking at Lithuania and Ukraine who were trying to do something about the Latvian's wound.

"I think we found all their bases." Estonia spoke up. "This association has four of them : one in Los Angeles, one in northern Poland, one in Taipei and one in Siberia. But we'll have to recover Austria's and Norway's corpses too. Austria's has been sent to Iceland's place, I don't know why. It'll probably be the same for Norway's."

"We have five targets, we must form five teams." Switzerland said. "If we add Taiwan, we'll have twenty-seven people. We can make five teams with five countries in each team, and Estonia and Liechtenstein will help us by pirating their security system for example…"

"How will we choose the teams ?" Lithuania asked.

"We'll stay with our friends, of course. The worst thing that could happen is to have to work with somebody we hate, right ?" America answered, obviously staring at Russia.

"Bad idea, America." Prussia intervened. "Our enemies _expect us_to think like that. We had better draw lots."

"I agree, but I want to be on the team that will go to my place."

"No prob, Poland. And America will go to LA, Russia to Siberia, etc."

"I think Gil, Francis and I could be together. Seeing as our history, I don't think the humans expect us to get along." Spain suggested.

"OK, as long as I am not with you." England mumbled.

"Latvia, you'll be OK ?" Ukraine asked with a worried voice.

"D- d- d- don't w- worry, I'm f- f- fine, I- I've experienced worse…"

Poland threw a few pieces of paper in a bag, then took four of them.

"Everybody, listen to me ! The members of the first team, who will go to Taipei, are…"

* * *

**A/N : Already chapter 10 !**

**During the next chapters, I'll present the parties. It'll be funny, da~ ?**

**Thanks to vampirelily6786 on dA who fixed my grammar.**

**Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**  
**This fanfiction is mine.**


	11. First departure

"Now that the parties are formed, I'll give the last instructions. Don't step in the others parties' jobs. Use your mobile only in case of emergency, they're probably wiretapped. If somebody dies, take the corpse with you. If you can't, destroy it, it will reappear in his territory within one or two weeks. If you need Estonia or Liechtenstein's help, contact them from a phone box or something like that. And, last but not least, don't kill more than necessary."

"West, why are you staring at me ?"

Germany didn't pay attention at his brother's question. The answer was much too obvious.

"That's all. Any questions ?"

"Yes." England spoke up. "Do we know what happened to the others countries ? I'm worried about my family."

"We managed to contact most of them. They're all safe. They know their territories well enough to be able to hide." Estonia answered.

"'Most of them' doesn't mean 'all of them'. Who's missing ?" Netherlands asked.

"We have trouble with North Korea, Syria, Afghanistan and a few others dictatorships and countries at war."

The silence came back. The nations the Estonian had mentioned had enough problems without a scandal about their identity.

"Well, we don't have to worry, non ? Zey're strong. Zey're independent countries. If zey're something we can do to help zem, it's not to worry and break this association up." France said.

China closed his eyes. The Frenchman was right. North Korea had passed through problems much more serious than this. Hong Kong and South Korea were both safe, and Taiwan was waiting for them at her capital. Now the more important thing was to meet her.  
Yao looked at his party. He had been lucky : it was quite well-balanced. He had heard many stories from Russia about Sweden's strength. Lithuania was smart and had gone through numerous battles. Italy… Well, they would manage to find him something to do. Yao just hoped that Taiwan wouldn't ignore him. She was like a little sister for him, but she had never considerated him as a sibling. It was the same for Japan and Hong Kong. South Korea wasn't showing any respect for him, and North Korea wasn't showing anything at all…  
The Chinese shook his head. Not the moment to think about this.

"W' m'ght leave. W' m'st steal new cl'thes 'nd f'nd a train to S'n Fr'ncisco."

China took a few seconds to understand what Sweden had said, then glanced at his suit. It was covered in dust, grease and sweat. They would be lucky if they wouldn't be spotted because of their _smell_. Sighing, he nodded to Berwald.

"I think the two of us can find a way to travel without being noticed, while Italy and Lithuania are stealing clothes, aru."

"D'ya think 'mplying It'ly 's a good idea ?" the Sweden asked

"Well, he can be really fast, and he will be with Lithuania, aru. If we neglect him, he might react badly and cause much more trouble, aru…"

Sweden glanced at said Italian. He was trying to feed Latvia pasta,, which was quite difficult because of his shaking. As a matter of fact, Russia, who was worried (?) about Raivis' wound, had decided to help Feliciano "take care" of the Latvian.

"I'll tell th'm w're leaving. Spot 'n exit cl'se to a st'tion."

China took out a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. It was a map of the sewer of Washington which America had given to everybody (but he didn't say where it came from. Maybe he always had five or six maps with him ?).  
The Chinese noticed an exit next to the station where the freight trains were parked. _Perfect,_ he thought. _And there's another exit 500 meters farther which leads to a department store. Lithuania and Italy will be able to use it._  
Sweden came back with the two small nations, Italy complaining about Latvia who hadn't eaten all his pasta. Yao's voice interrupted him.

"He'll finish it later, aru. Now let's go, we have a long walk before we can reach the exit, aru."

He didn't add to pay attention not to slip. The last one who had said that had had a quite horrible death.

* * *

**A/N : Thanks to vampirelily6786 on dA who fixed my grammar.**

**Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.**  
**This fanfiction is mine.**


	12. Leader

Iceland was crying. He couldn't stop. No matter how much he wanted to dry his tears, the memory of his brother's corpse appearing on the surface of the water, out of reach, was always arising in his mind. He had hardly paid attention to Germany's speech, although he himself was a team leader.

Yes, he had a party to lead. Norway's and Austria's corpses had been sent to his place. He hadn't the time to cry : he had to find a way to travel, get weapons, spot exactly the place the bodies were kept, imagine a strategy to get them back…

The tears came back. It was too many responsibilities. Isolated on his island, far from any enemy, he had always been neutral. He just wasn't used to fighting. He was able to survive the cold winter of the North, the volcanic erupts, the earthquakes, the famines, the epidemics, but he couldn't stand to see the ones he loved dying.

Iceland clenched his teeth. A nation unable to endure a war ? He was pitiful !

Somebody sat down next to the boy, drawing his attention.

"Den ? What do you want ?" he mumbled, hiding his tears.

The Danish stared at the little country. His usual smile was absent from his face, replaced by a serious expression which didn't suit him at all. Does he think I'm pitiful because I'm crying instead of going ahead ?

"Den, if you're here to tell me it's pathetic for a nation to cry like I-"

SBONK !

Iceland's eyes widened while putting his hands on his head, a bump appearing on the spot Denmark had just punched.

"Wh- why did you hit me ?! That hurts, you forceful bastard !" the boy shouted, all his sadness and anxiety suddenly forgotten.

"You idiot !" the Danish answered.

Iceland's violet eyes darkened. I was right. He's going to tell me that it's not the moment to cry, that I might go ahead and think about what has to be done now, that crying is useless, that a eleven centuries old nation must be able to stand a war, etc.

"Why do you always bear the responsibility for everything ? Norway didn't die because of you ! Stop carrying the world on your shoulders !" Denmark shouted. "We're a team. You won't fight all alone. You're the leader, but Romano's here, Switzerland's here, Finland's here, and I am here !"

The messy haired guy stopped, taking a breath. Iceland's eyes were still locked on him. This wasn't the speech he was expecting.

Finally, he sighed and stood up.

"You're right. I can't find any solution because I only think about myself."

He headed for the three others nations of his team, who were eating some pasta Italy had given to them.

"Sorry for have been crying for such a long time. I'm ready now."

"If you have stopped crying at last, we can talk about what we must do." Switzerland began dryly. "First, we have to go to your place. Romano has an idea about this."

"Si, and a great one. Your place is a fucking island, and travelling by boat would be too long, so…"

"So ? Keep it short !" Vash got annoyed.

A smirk spread across the Italian's face.

"We'll make the Mafia smuggle us in a plane !"

The whole party glanced at Lovino with widened eyes (Iceland couldn't help but notice that a Switzerland with widened eyes was a pretty funny show).

"That's absolutely out of the question !" the Swiss shouted.

"Why ? That's an amazing idea !" Denmark said, enthusiastic.

"I hate dealing with the Mafia !"

"Half of your banks are filled with my Mafia's money !"

Seeing as Vash didn't answer, Finland stepped in.

"I'm okay with using the Mafia, but how will we manipulate them ? We can't pay them all the same ! Even if we're in a special situation, that's illegal !"

"Our governments keep the mafia networks under surveillance. I'm sure we can find a gang that will help us if we denounce a spy among them." Iceland suggested.

"You want us to denounce one of our own spies ?!"

"Of course not ! I was speaking about a spy from another gang ! The mafias spy each other as much as we spy them." the light-haired boy answered.

"We'll need America's help to find a gang that will help us. Romano, can you deal with this ?"

"Nessun problema." said Italian answered, standing up.

"Ask for some weapons too. And clothes." Finland added while glancing at Denmark's suit.

"Anything else ?"

"No."

After this answer, Lovino made his way toward Alfred.

"I'll say goodbye to Su-san, he's leaving." the Finnish said a few seconds later, moving away.

"I'll ask Italy for some pasta, I haven't eaten yet!"

Iceland noticed how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten anything since the morning, and it was half past nine.

"Would you bring me some, Den ?"

"Yes, of course." the Danish answered.

But when he came back with two plates filled with Italy's pasta, all he had to feed was a sleeping Iceland.

* * *

Si (italian) : Yes  
Nessun problema (italian) : No problem

Longer chapter for now.  
Switzerland and Romano in the same team... sounds funny~

Thanks to vampirelily6786 on dA who fixed my grammar.

Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
This fanfiction is mine.


	13. The worst teammates

_A/N : Chapter 13. I hope you're not superstitious._

* * *

England had been through many difficult problems during his life. His history hadn't always been joyful. Hundred years war, Seven years war, Napoleonic Wars, World Wars, decolonization… He had killed, tortured, corrupted, betrayed, and did many others things which didn't deserve to be quoted.

But right now, no matter how tough he was, he was completely discouraged.

His worst nightmare had come true.

He was still hearing Poland's voice resounding in his mind. "I'll say which countries will be in Russia's team. Prussia. Spain. France. England."

Arthur closed his eyes. Perhaps, when he opened them, he would be in another party, or better, he would wake up from those nightmarish events. But nothing happened when he reopened them. He still had to work with both Russia and the Bad Friends Trio.

And Russia and Prussia were already fighting !

"Give my vodka back !"

"I don't know where it is, I didn't touch it !"

"If you didn't steal it, who did ? America is busy with Romano !"

"I don't know, perhaps you were so drunk that you lost it somewhere and you don't remember it ?"

"Liar ! I'm sure you took it !"

"I didn't, you parano !"

England restrained his anger for a few minutes, but when France and Spain began to bet, he snapped.

"You five year old children ! Can't you see this is NOT the moment to argue ? There are two hours left before the humans know we're here, we must leave this sewer before then ! China's team has already left !"

Russia stopped slamming Prussia's head against the floor, and Gilbert stopped strangling Ivan with his own scarf. The whole party turned to the British. There were a few seconds of awkward silence, then Russia stood up and spoke up with his childish voice as if nothing had happened.

"I have an idea about the way we'll travel !"

England gulped. They were at Alfred's place… The Russian had probably chosen the way which would imply the largest amount of collateral damage.

"How about we steal a helicopter from America ?" he continued with his innocent smile.

Arthur took a few seconds to assimilate what the tall country had said. Steal a helicopter ? From an American airport ? With a five-person team ? Launching a nuclear bomb on their enemy's base would be easier, faster and safer (for both them and the civilians) !

But before England could say anything, everybody was already talking.

"Sounds funny !" Spain exclaimed with a large smile.

"Kesesesese, it'll be interesting… It seems that you can have good ideas sometimes, you Russian bastard."

"I'm pretty sure Angleterre will disagree, and it will probably annoy Amérique, donc I agree."

"So, we will do that, da ?" Russia asked like a child who was going to go to an amusement park for the first time of his life.

The British sighed. Was he really supposed to break up a terrorist organization with those guys ?

* * *

donc (french) : so  
Angleterre (french) : England  
Amérique (french) : America

Ha.  
Haha.  
BWAHAHAHAHA I'M EVIL ! Russia, England and the BFT in the same team... Have fun, Iggy !

Mmm ? What ? That's short ? I know, but I wrote it in four days ! This fanfic will have many short chapters.

Thanks to vampirelily6786 on dA who fixed my grammar.

Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
This fanfiction is mine.


	14. Worrying

_A/N : If you find grammar errors, please tell me in a comment._

* * *

Germany was worried.

First, about Italy (and his teammates). Feliciano was able to turn any military operation into a nightmarish retreat.

Second, about his brother. He was in Russia's team. And they were already fighting. Ludwig could do nothing but hope, or rather pray, since he couldn't intervene.

Third, about himself. The nations in his party were all able to fight correctly, but their leader was definitely unable to use their gifts judiciously.

Furthermore, his relationship with some of his teammates hadn't really been the best for some time. Even if he wasn't affirming it openly, Poland still held a grudge against him since WW2. It was the same for Greece, and his economic troubles hadn't put matters right.

Ludwig glanced at the Polish. He was speaking, or rather soliloquizing, about swimming to his place. Next to him, Netherlands was rolling a joint. As for Belgium, she was baking canned vegetables on Italy's camp stove (Feliciano always traveled with his camp stove and pot. To be able to cook pasta everywhere. Like on a battlefield, in space, in the desert… or in a sewer.)

The German sighed. Feliks had always been hopeless when it came to strategy. He was brave, tough, dignified, but realistic… no. Just… no.

Trying to forget how up the creek they were, he began to look for Italy. Unable to find him, he asked to England where Feliciano was.

"Italy ? He and his team have already left. Didn't you notice ?"

Germany frowned. No, he didn't notice. The Italian had left without drawing everybody's attention by crying or begging for mercy without reason. This was a pretty rare event.

Ludwig had a feeling that something bad was going to happen.

Each time Feliciano had left him without saying anything, he had come back with a military disaster on his hands. But until now, Germany had always been able to help him. Now, he would be far away if the Italian was in danger.

"Germany."

Said man jumped in surprise and nearly bumped into the guy who had just spoken.

"Something wrong, Greece ?" he said with a voice more aggressive than he wanted.

"I've – cough ! - an idea about how to go to Poland's – cough ! - place."

Ludwig immediately forgot all his anxieties about Italy. Maybe they would avoid a long and dangerous swimming to Poland's.

"True ?"

"Yeah. There is a – cough ! - Greek politician who has –cough ! cough ! - private jets in all the airports of the world. Including – cough ! - Washington."

"Are you thinking about… stealing it ?"

"You can drive a plane, right ?"

"Yeah, but... stealing…"

"What's wrong with robbing a robber ?" Greece said with a cold voice.

The German bit his tongue. Why didn't he noticed before ? No honest politician was rich enough to have so many private jets !

"What about the security ?" he asked in order to avoid an embarrassing subject for both of them.

"If anybody notices he's co – cough ! - corrupted, his career is done for. He can't invest too much money in security, it would be – cough ! cough ! - too much obvious. The surveillance must be minimal."

Even minimal, there will still be surveillance. It would be troublesome if we just break into the airport and steal the plane… There would be damages from both sides… No, not if we're tricky. We can neutralize the aircrew and take his place... But first of all, why does he tell this to me instead of Poland ? I'm not the leader, verdammte Scheiße !

"Maybe we should speak about this with the others ?" he asked.

"Poland and – cough ! - Belgium are sleeping, and Ne- cough ! cough ! - Netherlands is high…"

Ludwig sighed for the umpteenth time. He took a peek to his watch : barely two hours until they would have to leave.

"I'll ask Estonia to search the members of the crew and an airport plan… and perhaps a way to pirate the airport's security system." he mumbled, leaving Heracles alone with his cold.

Germany's next thoughts were mainly centred around the best way to wake an annoying Polish up.

* * *

verdammte Scheiße (german) : f*cking sh*t

Poland, don't be surprised if you're woken up by a bucket of dirty water on the head.

Headache headache headache... Lack of sleep and computer abuse.  
I have five books to read for my school homeworks *shot*.

Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya.  
This fanfiction © me.


	15. Railway station

"Good luck, aru."

"You too. We'll both need it." Lithuania answered before disappearing in the darkness, Italy behind him.

When he no longer heard his teammates' steps resounding inside the sewer, Yao turned his mobile to the ladder in front of him. He shivered : the whitish light and the hard shadows were making the vertical pipe look creepy. Hejust hoped that he hadn't made a mistake and that the duct would lead them to the freight trains parking, as expected.

Sighing, the Chinese took his phone in his mouth (have you already managed to climb on a ladder with one hand ?) and grabbed the first rung. Ignoring his backache – he was far too old for that kind of exercise –, he reached the manhole cover and opened it slowly.

He was in a lavatory. _Probably the freight trains drivers' toilet_, China thought. He jumped out from the pipe and smoothly landed on the tiled floor. Sweden was about to do the same when a flush noise made him close the manhole hastily. A little man went out from a cabin. He didn't notice Yao's presence until he fell on the floor, out cold. _Sometimes, I'm glad I'm gifted when it comes to martial arts_, the Chinese thought.

"Sweden, you can go out, aru. We're alone here now, aru."

Said Swedish re-opened the manhole and squeeze his large body out from the tight pipe.

"I think his clothes suit me, aru. If I wear them, I'll be able to explore the station without been noticed, aru."

" Ar faces have b'n p'blished in th'newsp'p'r. Ya'll be rec'gnized 'nyway."

"I don't think the humans I'll meet will really pay attention to me, aru. And for an American, all the Asians look like each other, aru…"

Berwald glanced at the Chinese during a few seconds without saying anything. Yao felt his hair bristle with fears, his teammate was really frightening ! _How is Finland able to stand this all the time ?_ he wondered. Finally, the tall man nodded in agreement and began to take the driver's clothes off.

China was slipping the man's shirt on when the two nations heard steps coming closer. Sweden hurriedly grabbed the human and rushed in a cabin. Without thinking, Yao followed him and locked the door behind him. That's only after another train driver had gone into the room that the Chinese noticed how awkward and uncomfortable their position was (if you can't imagine, take an unknown person and somebody you barely know, lock yourselves in a restroom and try to be discreet). The Asian country tried to hide a blush when he realized he was still half naked. After the ten minutes the more embarrassing of Yao's life – and probably of Berwald's too –, the human left and the two nations rushed out from the cabin. China quickly finished getting dressed while Sweden was binding the unlucky driver with fragments of the shirt.

"I'll wait here 'n a c'bin with th' hum'n." he said when they had both finished their jobs.

"OK. I'll be back soon, aru."

"D'n't be mist'k'n f'r a g'rl."

"What have you just said, aru ?"

"N'thing. D'n't pay att'ntion."

After this answer, China left the room and closed the door behind him. When he turned his head to look around, he couldn't help but let his jaw drop : the room he had just entered was a gigantic hall. And when a country whose capital is 16 410km² big says that something is gigantic, you can't accuse him exaggerating. The hall was containing hundreds of trains, all orderly parked on a complicated tangle of rail. Yao was feeling even small then usual. He had full right to feel small : the room was bound to house the thousands of trains which stopped at Washington every day. Furthermore, as an American construction, it just couldn't be modest.

The hall wasn't quiet : men were unloading some trains, trucks were circulating between the freight trains, drivers were smoking or chatting. However, they weren't numerous : railroads were reserved to passenger trains at this time. _There will probably be more agitation during the night_, the Chinese thought.

He was wandering around the trains, trying to not be noticed, when a giant (how surprising) information screen drew his attention. It was indicating the destinations and the times of departure of the trains. _New York, New York, Chicago, Detroit, Los Angeles, Los Angeles, Los Angeles, Miami… Ah, here it is, San Francisco. Departure at 11:30 PM, platform n°6._ Yao looked at his watch. _It's 7:30 PM. I've enough time to invent a way to break into a freight car…_, he thought while making his way towards the platform n°6.

He was always very creative when it came to tricks.

* * *

That's only while writing this that I realized that seeing as American trains company are private, drivers don't wear any uniform OTL.

Thanks to GothicAgeloftheDead on dA who fixed my grammar !

Hetalia © to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
This fanfiction © me.


	16. Gas

"Is it this one ?"

"Yeah, I guess. Come on, pull it."

"Yes, Sir !"

After executing a military salute with the left hand, Italy handed out his arm to reach a greasy pipe fixed on the damp wall of the sewer. He fumbled around in the darkness until his hand touched a lever, then grabbed it and pulled it. Lithuania smiled at Feliciano's enthusiasm. He wished he could be so dynamic. The Italian had already got over the last events, and his anger had vanished into thin air. Toris, as far as he was concerned, was hardly bearing their situation. This succession of catastrophes wasn't really bothering him- he had experienced worst. The problem was the long hours spent between two tragedies. Long hours spent worrying about the world, about his inhabitants, about his friends, about himself. Long hours spent waiting for this nightmare to end. Long hours waiting in vain.

"Something wrong, Lithuania ?"

"Huh ? Ah, don't worry, I was just… thinking."

"If that's so, let's continue, ve~ !"

The two nations walked toward a ladder a few meters farther. Followed by Italy, Lithuania climbed it and opened the manhole cover.

The Baltic nation looked around. He was in a clean room, with tiled floor and walls. On the left, there was a row of white doors, all opened, which were leading to closets. On the right, washbasins were fixed to the wall. They were in the lavatory of the mall they were about to burglarize.

Happily, at 7PM, the department store was nearly empty. Toris and Feliciano came out from the pipe and closed it.

"Now, Italy, you know what you'll have to do. Right ?"

"_S__ì _! When the humans begin to panic, I run to a shop and I steal clothes !"

"Well, I trust you." The Lithuanian ended, trying to look confident.

Recovering his dead-serious face, Toris pulled out a sub-machine gun he had got earlier and, without making a single noise, half opened the lavatory's door. Outside was a covered passage, lined with various shops. The store windows were covered in Christmas decorations, reminding Lithuania of the celebration which was approaching, and which everybody had forgotten.

The small country shook his head. Not the moment to think about this. He checked the large corridor once more. Nobody in sight.

_God bless the Americans and their habit to have dinner so early, _the Lithuanian thought. As silently as before, he walked out and, skulking as close as possible at the wall, reached a small cupboard fixed on the wall on which the words "High voltage inside - Do not open" were written. It was locked.

Toris breathed in deeply. He would be spotted a second after he would have shot. He would have to be fast.

The Baltic raised his gun, aimed at the keyhole and shot.

The locker broke without resisting. Lithuania hurriedly opened the cupboard, knowing that he had only a few seconds. As expected, the cupboard was containing a bunch of electric cords, two water pipes, and, finally, a gas duct.

Toris stepped back and, aiming at the gas pipe, pulled the trigger. The bullet easily pierced through the not-so-solid metal, releasing flammable fumes. Trying to stay calm despite the adrenalin rushing in his system, the small nation rummaged through his pockets, in search of the cigarette lighter he had borrowed from China earlier

"Hey, you ! Don't move !"

The Lithuanian turned around to see a security guard pointing a gun at him. Despite the fact that the nations' face had been published via media, the human was probably not recognizing the guy he was threatening. _Sorry, America._

Toris raised his gun and shot. The man, obviously not expecting such a radical answer, didn't have enough time to reply. While his victim was collapsing, Lithuania finally managed to find his lighter. He ran away from the pierced pipe then, when he was far enough, lighted the small flame and launched it.

* * *

_A/N : This chapter and the next one were supposed to be one chapter, but it was too long, so I cut it._  
_I'm trying to add descriptions. I'll do my best to make this story an interesting fanfic !_

_So this story will happen in winter, in case of you didn't notice..._

_Hetalia © to Hidekaz Himaruya._  
_This fanfiction © me._


	17. Eardrums

_A/N : If you find grammar mistakes, please tell me in a comment~ Don't lie, I know there's grammar mistakes. I can't beat natives at their own language._

* * *

The blast made Lithuania lose his balance and sent him a few meters farther. He landed on his back, protecting his head with his arms. He hadn't anticipated such a large explosion. Still groggy, he half-opened his eyes and saw Italy leaving the lavatory and running to a shop, zigzagging between the panicked humans which were far too worried about their own lives to notice the two nation representatives among them.  
The Lithuanian tried to stand up to reach the door the Italian had left open, but a sharp pain suddenly tore his ears. The blast had been more powerful than expected and it hadn't left his eardrums intact. He had experienced this before; for humans, this kind of wound was often definitive, but as a nation, he would be able to walk within a few minutes…  
Toris clenched his teeth. He _hadn't_ those few minutes.  
He had to run away _now._  
First, because there was a fire behind him which was gaining ground. Second, because he and Italy had turned the sprinklers off when they were into the sewer. He had to restore the water, or humans would die in the fire !  
Why the hell did they used a gas explosion as a diversion ? It was far too dangerous ! What the hell had cross his mind ?!  
_The surveillance camera._  
Yeah. That was this. With the smoke and the destroyed cables, they were on the blink. Lithuania hadn't wanted to risk leaving videotapes of Italy and him.  
But does their own security deserved to endanger so many humans ? This wasn't the first time he was doing that. He had fought many wars during his young years, when he was the Duchy of Lithuania. He had made humans suffer through those silly fights against the young nations who were Russia and Prussia. This, time, he should have made human lives his priority ! He was always repeating the same errors !  
A scream behind him woke him up from his dark thoughts. _Not the moment to think about this ! Keep a cool head !_  
The Baltic crawled as fast as he could and reach the lavatory door. Pushing the half-open door with a shoulder motion, he went in the room and moved to the manhole…  
_And now ?_  
He couldn't open it in his situation.  
And even if Italy opened it for him, he would be unable to go down the ladder.  
Said Italian suddenly rushed in the lavatory, carrying a pile of clothes.

"Lithuania ! Are you all right ?"

"Don't worry about me ! Go into the sewer, turn the sprinkler on and run away !"

"Can't you stand up ? Are you wounded somewhere ? I won't let you here !"

""Don't worry about me, I said ! It's only my eardrums which hurt because of the blast ! It'll be fine in a few minutes ! But if you don't restore the water, we'll both burn alive !"

Italy stepped back, shaking. He hesitated a few seconds then, hearing screams from the mall, opened the manhole and disappeared into the sewer with his pile of clothes.  
Lithuania coughed. The smoke was invading both the room and his lungs. The screams coming from behind him were hurting his still sore ears, and the lavatory was slowly turning into an oven as the flames were coming closer.  
The small nation held his breath. _I mustn't breathe I mustn't breathe I mustn't breathe if I breathe I choke if I breathe I die…_  
His headache was continuing to increase. His heartbeats were resounding in his head, his brain was shouting him to breathe, his skull was pounding. His whole body was a pain. The lack of oxygen was beginning to trip his brain out. Why was he there ? Why was this place burning ? Why couldn't he stand up ? He couldn't remember.  
…why was he holding his breathe ?  
The Baltic inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with thick smoke. He coughed violently, ejecting the toxic fumes from his body. He was still in lack of air, and the pain was reaching the limit of his mental strength. Wich was quite high.  
His vision became blurred as his mind was slowly drowning in unconsciousness. What was Italy doing, when he was dying here ?  
...why was he thinking about Italy ? His failing brain didn't allow him to find the answer.  
Why was he continuing to fight ? Another question. So much questions. No answer. If he had no reason to stay in this hell, why couldn't he just give up ? Just let himself slide in the darkness… No, he couldn't just give up like that. He still had a pride ! _Give up._ No. _You don't even know why are you still here. Give up._ No ! There must be a reason ! _But it would be a delivrance, right ?_ Errh... _Give up._ ...

Cold water suddenly fell from the ceiling, making Toris flinch. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with fresh air as the ventilation was starting again. The Slavic nation coughed to eject the last rest of smoke, then collapsed, relieved. Feliciano had finally managed to restore the water.  
_I hope nobody has been hurt into the fire_, he thought.  
Veneciano suddenly emerged from the manhole, drawing the Baltic's attention.

"You're very fast at going up ladders, Italy."

Feliciano's eyes darkened.

"_Sì_, it's probably the only thing I can do correctly… And you, are you all right ? I'm sorry if I was long, I couldn't find the right lever…" he added, recovering his innocent face.

"Y- Yeah, I think I can walk now…"

Lithuania carefully stood up, then took a few steps forward. He still had a light headache, but nothing comparable to the pain from before.

"I'm fine, I guess…" he concluded.

"If that's so, let's go, ve~"

Without waiting any answer, the Italian ran toward the manhole and nearly jumped into the pipe.

Toris smiled.  
He wished he could be so dynamic.

* * *

_A/N : I'm doing my best to not be too much OOC._  
_-_

_Hetalia © to Hidekaz Himaruya._  
_This fanfiction © me._


	18. Uneasiness

_A/N : Hi everybody ! I hope you still like this story ! I don't have much to said this time. Ah, yeah, I have a shitload of homeworks and a request to do. Sorry for making you wait; the next chapter will perhaps take a bit long for me to write, but it'll be a double chapter~_

* * *

Slightly, very slightly, the manhole cover lifted, revealing a pair of strange violet eyes. But before anyone could notice them, the metallic plate closed and the mysterious orbs disappeared.

"So ?" England asked.

"We can't go out here… There's too many people…" Russia answered.

"Well, let's try another exit." Arthur sighed.

The Russian went down the ladder and the whole party headed to another vertical pipe a few meters farther.  
France shivered as a cold draft passed in the sewer. He was feeling really, really bad at this moment. The sickly odor and the dampness of the sewer had for long impregnated his high-class clothes. His hair, a day ago clean and perfectly combed, were now covered in an unknown substance and tied back in a coarse ponytail. The restless night he had spent on the ground of the World Meeting room had left him stiff all over. His legs hurt as hell from walking during half an hour. _I would give anything for a warm bath…_ To top it all off, the memories of the events from before was sending his exhausted self down in the dumps.  
That wasn't all. Despite the nations with him were doing a great job to hide it, everybody was wound up. It was obvious. Francis hadn't heard the slightest "bloody something" or "I'm awesome" since Austria's death. Spain's smile was fake and devoid of warmth. The Frenchman himself perfectly knew that he wasn't in his normal state; he couldn't find the motivation to make a single joke about how Arthur's humid pants were hugging his ass. Even Russia wasn't himself; the palpable tension was obviously making him feel bad, and he looked like a lost child. The more evident proof of the team's uneasiness was that they had all immediately accepted to steal a helicopter from a hospital rather than to militaries. This was far safer, but also so less funny… _Mon Dieu, am I becoming to look like Prussia ? I'm thinking like him !_  
Lost in thoughts, France didn't notice that they had reached the next exit. Russia's voice woke him up.

"I think we can go out here !"

The whole party sighed in happiness, relieved to leave the atrocious odor of the sewer. But their joy faded away when they realized how cold it was outside : the pipe, buried a few meters under the surface, was quite warm. On the other hand, their light and damp suits were hardly protecting them from the freezing temperature of the night. Only Russia, who was wearing his usual coat, seemed perfectly fine.

"Wow, it's already dark !" the tall nation said while looking at the starless sky.

"W-w-w-w-where are w-w-we ?" Spain asked between two teeth chattering, vigorously rubbing his arms with his hands to warm them up.

"N-n-n-no id-d-d-dea." England answered, bitterly regretting the coat he had left in the Meeting room – and which was now probably nothing more than a heap of ashes.

Blowing in his clenched fist to warm them up, France looked around as his vision was accustoming to the darkness. They had arrived before a metallic garage door which leaded in a brick building, and on which the word "Delivery" was painted. Before them, at the other side of a road, the entrance of a tall white building, probably the hospital, was lightening the concrete – not enough to reach the group of countries, happily. Although many windows of the building were still lightened, the curtains covering them from the inside let the five nations unseen. At their right, a nearly-empty parking ended the brick building. At their left, the road extended for about a hundred meters before forking. Here and there, snow-covered trees and shrubs were planted. The snow was everywhere but on the road, and any single step ended on a crouching noise.

"Let's have a look, da ?" Russia said while walking towards the glass door at the other side of the road.

"Hey, w-w-w-where are y-you g-g-go-going, y-y-you idi-di-diot ? Someb-b-body w-will see you !" England whispered, completely unable to control his shaking.

"We'll have to go inside anyway. I don't know if you noticed, but the heliport is on the roof." Ivan answered while pointing at the top of the building.

The whole party looked up at the roof and they flinched as they noticed the dark blade of the helicopter four floors higher.

"Bloody hell…"

* * *

Mon Dieu (French) : My God

_A/N : God bless Wordreference ! The most I add description, the most I need it._

_If you find grammar, mistakes, please tell it in a comment. I didn't really proofread this~_  
_Comments are always appreciated !_

_Hetalia © to Hidekaz Himaruya._  
_This fanfiction © me._


	19. Helicopter

_A/N : Here comes double chapter ! Sorry for the long wait ! I'm desperately trying to find time to write and draw without neglecting my homeworks, and it's not that easy.  
Sorry for bothering you with my RL, I hope you'll like this chapter~  
Please correct my grammar errors, and comments are always appreciated !_

* * *

Spain was freezing. Almost literally.

The glacial chill was savagely attacking his skin through his light suit, and the dampness impregnating his clothes wasn't putting matters right. He could no longer feel his toes and fingers, and the coldness was gaining his hands. _I would give anything for a pair of gloves. _That wasn't all : he felt really tired, his head was pounding as hell, his throat was in pain and he had to concentrate all his efforts to not cough. _Fucking_ _economic troubles_. He was Spain, for tomatoes' sake ! The country where the sun never set ! He wasn't supposed to wander around at night with those subzero temperatures, an economic disease and no warm clothes !

_Speaking about tomatoes… I really hope Romano's ok. _He and his team had left the sewer at the same time as Spain's, but they had taken another way. _I don't want him to be hurt… _Spain put a numb hand on the top of his head, rubbing the spot Lovino had hit when Antonio had tried to hug him goodbye. _Bueno, I think he no longer needs protection now… _But still, it was _his_ Lovino, and the Spaniard had difficulties to forget the cute little henchman who couldn't even do the cleaning without destroy half of the house.

"D-d-do w-we r-r-r-really have t-t-to g-go in this hosp-pit-t-tal ?" England asked.

"No, we can take this emergency stairs~" Russia said while indicating a metallic stairs in the darkness.

_Mierda. _Spain was planning to warm up a little once in the hospital… Apparently, he had to forget this plan. The team moved to the stairs, carefully staying in the darkness, and Ivan put a foot on the first stair.

"Be careful, it's slippery, da ?" the Russian warned the others nations. His face was invisible in the dark, but the childish, I-want-you-to-slip-and-hurt-yourself smile could perfectly be heard in his voice.

England, following the tall country, put his hand on the frozen banister, but immediately removed it with a suppressed scream. Or at least, tried to remove it, since his palm stayed stuck on the metal because of the freezing temperature of the steel. The British violently bit his lip to restrain a yell of pain, his hand was burning as hell ! . He grabbed his wrist with his other hand and tried to snatch it of the banister, but this action only resulted in an atrocious pain tearing his hand.

"Hey, England, is something wrong ?" Prussia's voice said behind Arthur, not noticing his teammate's troubles in the ink-black.

"Mmmm-mm-m !" was all the poor nation managed to say between his clenched teeth

France finally got what was going on. He roughly pushed Gilbert aside and rushed to England. Paying attention to not getting stuck himself, he brought his hands to the Brit's one and rubbed it vigorously to warm it up. When he noticed that that wasn't enough to remove Arthur's frozen palm, he carefully brought his mouth to England's fingers and blow on them, melting the thin layer of ice which was sticking them on the metal. The younger nation finally managed to snatch his hand of the banister and immediately brought it to his face, but Francis caught his wrist before he could end his movement.

"Don't touch your face with this hand ! Your skin is frost-bitten. You'll only get cold by warming it up yourself. Let me take care of this." Francis scolded in an undertone, bringing England's limb under his own arm. For once, the latter didn't object, although it was obvious that he would have punched the Frenchman in they were in another situation. Instead of that, he mumbled something about this 'bloody perverted frog' and continued to go up the stairs, dragging France behind him. Prussia followed him, and Spain brought up the rear, still shaking like Latvia.

After a long and trying climbing on the tight and black-iced stair, the party reached the roof and they collapsed on the last stairs, catching their breathe.

Russia took a look at the roof. It was a large concrete floor, lightened by a few powerful spots. At his left, there was a small white building with a large door, probably leading to the inside of the hospital. At his right, on a raised platform, the helicopter was parked, his motors off. Nobody in sight; who would be crazy enough to _steal an helico_ ? _Well, we aren't completely sane anyway. We're all nutty; in different ways, but still, we're nutty. _the Russian thought, in a rare moment of reflection. The only other exit, beside the stairs the party was sat, was the white building. They just had to run to the platform and go away, or rather fly away. But would it be that easy ?

"A-a-are you p-p-planning t-t-to wait-t unt-til I t-t-turn int-to a snowman ?" Spain spoke up.

Ivan turned to Antonio, and couldn't help but imagine a snow-buried Spain. It would be funny, how the Mediterranean nation would get colder and colder, until his tanned skin turn blue… He would have to try once at his place.

"We can go now, there is nobody up there. Follow me, da ?" The Russian stood up and, a hand on the assault rifle he had gotten during the escape, walked quickly to the helicopter. He got in and sat on the pilot seat; he knew how to drive that kind of engine. Behind him, his teammates went in as well, relieved to finally find a not-to-cold place. France grabbed bandages and began to tend England's injured hand – much to the British's dislike, but he forced himself to not hit Francis. Facing the instrument panel, Ivan began to think about their itineraries. _We can't reach Siberia with a helicopter… We'll have to go to LA and then get into a plane. Bribery in sight. I'll be able to tease Amerika about that~ ! We'll talk about that during the flight… American authorities won't be able to stop us; they can't risk hurting citizens if they make us crash. _The Nordic nation grinned. He would oh-so make fun of America about that. Serves his right.

A movement at his right dragged his attention. Prussia had, apparently reluctantly, taken the copilot seat.

"What are you doing ?" Russia asked.

"I'll be the copilot. I can drive this kind of thing. And I don't want you to fucking make us land in a God-forsaken place in your territories where you could lock us up. I don't want more fucking problems, understand ? I don't wanna be locked up. Especially by you." the albino answered, pouting on the last word.

"Piyo." Gilbird agreeded, poking his head out from Prussia's hair.

"You're speaking like if I hadn't already done it~"

"Shut up."

"Don't want to."

"Ja."

"Nyet."

"Stop ! Don't start a fight now ! I know it's hard to work all together, but we should begin by going away, _oui _?" France stepped between the two countries.

"Wow, the frog said something intelligent. He's right, guys, I managed to not beat him up until now, you should do the same." England agreeded, rubbing his left hand that France had bandaged.

Gilbert grumbled, Ivan pouted, but they both turned to the instrument panel and began to turn the helicopter on. Immediately, a man went out the building, shouting and waving his arms. Spain raised his gun – a pistol he always carried with him, not the sub-machine gun Gilbert had given him earlier, which wasn't precise enough in his current situation. The Spaniard aimed just before the man and shot, making him scream in surprise and run back to the concrete building. But as he was putting his gun back to his pocket, the helicopter took off, violently shaking his passengers. Antonio was thrown out. Screaming in terror, he attempted to grab something, anything which could avoid him to crash on the hospital roof. His still numb limbs reacted a bit late, and all he managed to grab was the skid.

The Spaniard yelled in pain when he felt his arms be stretched by the shock. The sharp edge of the skid broke the skin of his palms, and a trickle of blood began to run down his arms. _Mierda ! Mierda de mierda de mierda de mierda ! That hurts ! __Mucho ! _His fingers began to give up, slowly slidding on the cold metal._ I can't stand any longer…_

Spain lost his grip.

His scream of terror almost immediately turned into a choked gurgle. Three firm hands had caught him by his shirt, and his collar was pressing again his windpipe. But a second later, the hands dragged him back to the cockpit, safe and sound.

Antonio breathed in deeply, still shaking both from fear and cold, then collapsed on the floor, sighing in relief.

"Are you ok ? God, you bloody surprised us ! Can't you bloody warn us before falling like that !" England yelled behind him while closing the door with his valid hand.

"Don't be so blunt, _gros sourcils. _I don't think he deserves it." France replied before turning to Antonio. "Ow, you're bleeding. Give me your hands, big brother will take care of that." He added, grabbing a first aid kit.

Spain handed his hands to Francis, didn't minding how close to him his friend needed to be to bandage his hands. He was still terrorized. He wanted to go home, and play with Ita-chan, and drink with Gilbert and Francis, and laugh with the tomato gang, and see Romano, his cute, little Romano…

He shut his eyes close, holding back his tears. What did he do to deserve that ?

Trying to dream about more peaceful times, the Spaniard slowly dozed off, rocked by the sway of the helicopter. He finally sank into sleep a few minutes later, his exhausted body not allowing him to stay awake any longer.

* * *

Bueno (Spanish) : Well  
Mierda (Spanish) : Sh*t  
Mucho (Spanish) : Much  
Ja (german) : Yes  
Nyet (Russian) : No  
Gros sourcils (French) : Big eyebrows  
_-_

_A/N : This is long. 1700 words. Twice longer than my previous chapters. Next ones will be shorter, sorry~_  
_-_

_Hetalia © to Hidekaz Himaruya._  
_This fanfiction © me._


	20. Bad feeling

_A/N : I'm sorry to be able to update only once a week... I wish I had more time... I'm posting this during my lunch pause..._

* * *

Canada had never feel so bad. Why ? Well, the atrocious odor of the sewer was probably partially to blame, but that wasn't all. The Canadian sighed. He was knackered. He still didn't know why.

"What's wrong with me, Kumajiki ?"

"Who ?"

"Canada."

"Perhaps somebody forgot you and that get on your nerves ?"

Matthew searched his memory. Nobody had forgotten him during the go-and-get-some-food mission… On the contrary, all the nations with him had paid attention to him. Latvia had even _thanked _him after the Canadian had carried to the sewer.

Perhaps somebody had forgotten to say him goodbye before leaving ? _No, I don't think so… _When his team had left an hour ago, Francis had said him goodbye - a bit too much affectionately, Gilbert had had to stop him before he could have gone farther. The Prussian had wished him good luck too. Arthur had confused him with Alfred, but he had apologized and said him goodbye anyway. Even Ivan hadn't forgotten him (however, Canada really thought the smile he had received would give him nightmare for days).

"No, that's not the point. Another idea, Kumariko ?

"Something wrong with your team ?"

Canada turned to his teammates. Ukraine was sobbing in a corner, apparently worrying about her brother. Belgium had neglected her own team for a moment to comfort Katyusha, so the Canadian didn't have to be worried about her.

Belarus was sharpening her knives, alone. Or, more precisely, everybody had cautiously moved away when she had begun to mumble to herself while staring at her blades with insane looks.

Latvia was sat behind Estonia and Liechtenstein. The whitish light from the computer screens and the bloody marks on all his body were making him look creepy. His right leg was laid before him, covered in blood. Despite Lithuania's and Ukraine's effort to bandage the wound, the little nation had lost a lot of blood, and the bullet was still in his leg. The wound wouldn't heal until it was removed.

Suddenly, Raivis grabbed something next to him and brought it to his mouth.

Canada's jaw dropped.

It was a bottle of _vodka._

RUSSIA'S VODKA !?

"It seems that Latvia enjoy Ivan's absence a bit too much…" the Canadian said.

"HEY LIL BRO !"

Matthew turned to the fifth member of his party. He hadn't heard him coming.

How rare.

"Are you becoming bipolar ? You're speaking alone ! It's fucking scary, it reminds me of Russia ! By the way, this fucking commie told me to take care of his sisters, but I think he should learn how to ask a favor, he was nearly threatening me. And they didn't need to be protected, right ? I mean, I understand about Ukraine, but this fucking bitch over there who's sharpening her knives, I don't think she wants anybody to protect her… She's scarier than her brother ! What's wrong with this family ? Oh, I hope it's not contagious, I mean, communism is contagious, so why not Soviet insanity ? Russia, you fucking bastard ! I'm sure it's a plan of yours to invade me and- "

"How will we go to LA ?"

America stopped and stayed mouth open during a few seconds. Finally, he frowned and ask :

"Who are you ?"

"Canada, your little brother."

The Canadian sighed. He had been forgotten again. This always happened when Alfred was beginning to soliloquize. He had half-hoped that their current situation would make him more noticeable, but apparently nothing could change his brother's behavior.

"Ah yeah, Matt, of course ! Hey sorry but I'm thinking about a lot of things right now, and I'm fucking hungry so I can't concentrate properly. Don't worry lil bro, I've a great plan ! I'm the hero after all !"

Matthew flinched in anticipation. _What did he invent this time ?_

* * *

_Hetalia © to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
This fanfiction © me._


	21. Wounded leg

_A/N : I'm sorry this chapter sucks and is terribly short ! I swear the next one will be better than that !_

_Again, please comment and correct my grammar..._

* * *

Canada tried to prepare himself mentally to his brother's heroic plan –even if he perfectly knew that even a special psychological treatment couldn't prepare anybody to America's unpredictability.

"We'll travel by bus ! Like in the film I saw last Friday ! If we travel during the night, I don't think the citizens will pay attention to us, and the cops don't check public transit. We won't be bothered by the roadblocks."

Eh ? I'm lucky today, it could have been worse.

"Alfred. A bus travels at 60 miles per hour maximum. The distance between LA and Washington is 2700 miles. If we drive 8 hours per day, we'll reach LA within… about… 5 or 6 days ?"

"F- five days ? Uuh…"

"B- but we can leave Washington by bus, then take a t- train in Virginia to LA. I d-don't think that there are roadblocks out of Washington."

America stared at him, mouth open, with a particularly idiotic look on the face during a few seconds before he spoke up at last.

"Awesooome, lil bro ! Did my heroic aura finally influenced you ? Your idea is great ! Now, let's go~ !"

"W-what will we do about Latvia ? He can't walk alone…"

"Uh, I didn't think about that…"

As expected from him…

"Let's ask him, eh."

The two North-American walked toward the little country. Raivis hurriedly hid his vodka under his jacket on the floor and tried to stand up, but Matthew interrupted him.

"D-don't stand up, you're t-too wounded to walk…"

"I-I think I c-can wa-walk… That's j-j-just a b-bullet in the leg…"

"Just a bullet in the leg ? Are you fucking joking ? You're seriously wounded !" America shouted out, even though he was doing his best to not laugh at the two nations' stuttering.

"I-I've e-experienced w-w-worst… I-I'm p-perfectly able t-to walk… I c-can even r-r-run if necessary…"

Matthew and Alfred stared at him with skeptical looks. Even if they didn't doubt that the Latvian had passed through many atrocities during his life, such a wound was anything but light. They couldn't let their teammates pretend to be fine while he was suffering silently.

"Listen, if it hurts, just say it and-"

"He said he was OK, right ? So he's OK. Now shut up, you nuisance. The human must have found Norway's corpse now, we must leave."

The three nations turned to the girl who had just spoken. Nobody had heard her coming. Belarus was an expert in moving without being spotted.

America opened his mouth to reply, but the cold glance he received and the knife in Natalya's hand dissuade him from annoying her. Instead of that, he stood up and shouted around :

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN ! The hero's team is leaving ! Please take your things and say goodbye to your friends !"

If nobody outside hear him, we're lucky…

Matthew wished good luck to Netherlands, then followed Alfred, who had taken Latvia on his back. Apparently, Ukraine had persuaded Raivis to let the American carry him as long as possible.

"I-it seems that Estonia and Liechtenstein are l-leaving as well… Their computer's batteries are d-dead, apparently." Canada said.

Ukraine nearly bumped in Latvia as Alfred stopped suddenly. The American turned to his younger brother with a surprised expression on the face.

Oh no, not again…

"Who are you ?"

"Canada. Your little brother."

"Ah yeah, Matt, I remember now. Oh, Liechtenstein and the otaku are leaving ? Of course, their fucking batteries are dead now… They aren't made in America, I guess. Probably in China or something like that…"

Canada let his older (?) brother soliloquizing. He was nearly able to predict what he was going to say. How annoying.

"…"

"Eh ? D-did you say something, Latvia ?"

"N-n-nothing… D-don't pay attention…"

The Canadian frowned. He was sure he had heard something…

He shook his head. It must have been his imagination.

* * *

_A/N : Those chapters were a pain to write. I had to rewrite it three times before I could find inspiration. And I'm not familiar at all with the US train network. I hope you liked them anyway~_

_Hetalia © to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_This fanfiction © me._


	22. News

**A/N : Mmm... Sorry for posting the wrong chapter... (I posted the doc for chapter 13 instead of the one for the chapter 22 at first.) Here is the right one.**

* * *

When France finished bandaging Spain's hand, he turned to his friend to ask him if it was ok, only to find him asleep. Smiling, he laid the still sitting Spaniard down and covered him with a blanket he had found among the others first-aid tools. Sighing in tiredness, the Frenchman lied down next to him and tried to get some sleep, but as soon as he closed his eyes, the memories of the past events came back. Japan telling them the new. _The looks of disbelief on everybody's face. The more sensible nations beginning to cry._ The restless night in the World Meeting room. _The dinner taken without a word. The violent arguments about trivial things. Everybody so worked up that no one was able to sleep._ The sound of the shot bumping Austria off. _America shooting the human by reflex. England rowing him about that. Hungary running away from the meeting room with a rifle in her hand._ The blast of the explosion of the meeting place. _The atrocious odor and the dampness impregnating the clothes. Everybody afraid and stressed. Some overwrought countries screaming in surprise at the sound of the explosion_. A panting Greece announcing Japan's death. _America tightening his fists in rage. Heracles half choking with his tears and cough. China snapping and shouting at the Greek._ Norway's death body resurfacing in the sewer, out of reach. _Denmark hitting the wall with his fist to calm down. Iceland sitting in a corner to cry silently. Finland bursting into tears. Sweden clenching his teeth in anger. Italy yelling out his emotions..._

France flew his eyes open, realizing that he had fallen asleep. He sat up abruptly and groaned in pain as his head protested against the sudden movement. He brought his palm to his bumping forehead and tried to slow down his heavy breathings.

"Hey, frog. Are you all right ?" England asked, noticing the groan.

"Are you _worrying_ about me, _Angleterre_ ?" Francis answered, immediately forgetting his pain to jump at the chance to tease the British.

"When somebody is groaning, it's polite to ask him if he's not hurt. But if you're not, that must mean that it's nothing important and that your pain threshold is very low." Arthur replied.

"Soooooooo mean, _Angleterre_. You can't know how cuter you would be if you wasn't so cold. But of course, that's what makes you so hot, mon cher..." France said, letting out a 'honhonhon' laugh.

"Do you really think that's the right moment to let your mind go to the gutter ?"

"It's cold here, it's a way to warm myself up."

"Stay far from me then."

"Why ? Your hand is frost-bitten, I could try to heal that, honhonhon~"

"Do you want my fist on your face ?"

"Your frost-bitten one ? I knew you weren't very intelligent, but still..."

"I have two fists ! AND I CAN PROVE IT, YOU DAMN FROG !" England snapped, raising his right fist to hit the Frenchman.

"STOP ! We're in a helicopter, you idiots !" Prussia interrupted them.

"Piyo." Gilbird approved.

England stopped his move and gave an irritated glance at France. The latter answered with a wide grin, making fun of the foreseeable nature of his life-long rival. They stayed like that during a few seconds, none of them wanting to be the first one to blink.

Francis eventually sighed and laid down on the floor again, his back to the British. He put his head on his arm, using it as a pillow. He didn't close his eyes, not wanting to fall asleep this time; he just wanted his knackered body to relax. _Mon Dieu, I stink. And my hair is all tangled and greasy, that's horrible. And those clothes are done for; and they're damp and I'm beginning to be cold. And this floor is vibrating, that's do uncomfortable. And my back hurts and my legs and my head too. I want a warm bath. And new clothes. And a hot meal. And some good wine. And a soft bed._

"Comrades." Russia spoke up, interrupting his mental complaints.

"What again ?" England asked, still irritated.

"We're not alone up there. Look outside." Ivan answered.

France and England walked over to the window and took a peek at the outside. Two police helicopters were flying about twenty meters away from them.

"They won't attack us now, but they'll become a problem when we'll have to land and get some fuel." The Russian added.

"How long can we fly from now ?" Arthur asked.

"We've got enough fuel for 300 km, I guess." Prussia answered.

France frowned. They couldn't reach the Western coast without getting some fuel. _300 km... We're at Washington... Where can we go within a 300 km radius ? Wait a minute, we can- !_

"North !" Francis shout.

"Shut up, you idiotic frog ! You're screaming in my ear !"

"North ? What, North ?" Prussia asked, ignoring the angry Englishman.

"Russia, make for North ! I know where to go !"

"к северу..? Oh, we're going to Matvey's territory, da ? So the Americans won't be able to follow us. And by the time they get an official authorization from the Canadian authorities, we'll be far away." The Russian said while making the helicopter turn.

"Mat_thew_. Not Matvey." Prussia groaned.

"Whatever. But France, do you know exactly where to land..?" Ivan replied.

"_Oui_, I know a small airport in the country between lack Erie and Lack Ontario. There aren't many towns there, we should be able to hide the helicopter rather easily."

"Wait a bloody minute ! What the hell are you talking about ? And who is Matthew ?" England got angry.

A collective annoyed sigh answered him.

"What..?" The British repeated.

"Matthew. Canada. Your son-slash-little brother. America's brother. A member of the G8." Prussia mumbled, obviously annoyed.

"Oh, yeah, C-Canada, of course... Err... And how are the others teams by the way ?" Arthur stammered, trying to change the subject.

"I don't know, you idiot. How the fuck am I supposed to know ?!" Gilbert replied aggressively.

France was surprised by the way his friend was acting. This wasn't like him. The usually boisterous Prussian was getting angry over anything. Even more troubling, he was completely withdrawn. And yet, France had known him during war times; Prussia was more the kind of person who love being in the middle of the battle, enjoying the adrenalin rushing in his veins and the excitation of the fight. In their current situation, he should be overly happy to be able to enjoy this again. But no. He was just acting like... well, like a complete fun-sucker. It was already difficult for Francis to handle the stress of the coutless deaths, but if Gilbert spoiled their released time...

"We can listen to the radio, we're probably the main topic right now. If something important has happened, the journalists must have already jumped at the chance to get a scoop." The Frenchman suggested.

"Mrm... Ok..." Prussia mumbled while turning on the radio.

_"...the second policeman had been transferred to a hospital. According to the authorities, his life is no longer in danger. The police are still investigating on the crime scene, and I'll let speak our special correspondent there, Mr. Miller."_

_"Yes, I am currently close to the crime scene, and I can tell you that the number of policemen present here is quite surprising considering the scale of the crime. Also, I wasn't authorized to access to the crime scene and nobody answered any question. We can suppose that this affair isn't a banal aggression. Oh, and now I can see SWAT teams arriving... This case is definitely unusual, the main suspect can be a dangerous criminal wanted by the police, or terrorists, or it can also have an association to the recent scandal about the personification of nations. Anyway, seeing as the SWAT teams are here, I suppose that the suspect is in the area."_

_"Thanks for those precisions, Mr. Miller. We'll now talk about the corpse discovered in a canal, not far from Washington..."_

Prussia turned the radio off abruptly, surprising the others nations.

"Piyo ?" Gilbird asked.

"Why have you turned it off !? Turn it on again !" England rowed him.

"I've heard enough !" the albino shouted, standing up brusquely. At the sudden movement, Gilbird lost his balance and flew away from his master's head, chirping. " We can't stay like that ! The policemen have been killed next to the place we were in the sewer, the SWAT teams must be there for us ! We must inform the ones who're still over there..."

"Prussia ! Calm down and come back at the controls !" Russia exclaimed. "And furthermore, we can do nothing to help them."

"Our friends, and perhaps our families, are down there in danger, and that's the way you react !?" Gilbert slammed his fist against the wall.

"I'm afraid they'll have to manage by themselves for once." Ivan replied coldly, clenching his teeth.

Because no matter how much he wanted to hide it, he was terribly worried about his sisters.

* * *

**Angleterre (French) : England**

**Mon cher (French) : My dear**

**Mon Dieu (French) : God**

**к северу (Russian) : North**

**A/N : God... It's finally finished... It took me three days to write.**

**I'm really tired right now. And yet I sleep well.**

**As usual, please fix my grammar... And please comment even if it's not about grammar... If you took ten minutes to read this, you can take 5 seconds to write an encouraging comment, right ?**

**Hetalia © to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**_This fanfiction © me._**


	23. Last departure

_A/N : It's short. I know. But I like this chapter anyway. I hope you'll like it too._

* * *

"Guys ! Now, we really should leave !"

"But Germany, right now we're all like, totally exhausted !"

"You slept during nearly two hours and half ! And the guys who're after us won't wait until you're rested to try to arrest us !"

"What !? They won't, like, do something like that ! That would be, like, totally underhand !"

"Poland," Germany said while facepalming. "Do you think you're in a parallel world where everybody is nice and honest ?"

"Germany." Belgium's voice interrupted. "Going in the airport will be quite easy thanks to the lack of security, but we'll have problems with the travel to the airport. We can't stay into this sewer anymore, but we can't either go out. It's half past eight PM, the streets must be crowded."

"We can steal a car." Netherlands suggested.

"No, we'll be stuck in the traffic jams, and we'll be spotted immediately- CLANK."

The metallic noise resounded in the sewer. Nobody was speaking anymore. The whole team had turned to the ladder a few meters farther.

The ladder which was now lightened by a ray of artificial light which was coming from the open manhole.

"RUNAWAY !"

The nations didn't wait for the humans to come in the pipe. Only too happy to obey Poland's shout, they hurriedly grabbed their things and weapons and rushed in a lateral conduit…

…only to meet a second group of American soldiers.

They had been caught in a trap.

Like beginners.

Greece felt the anger rising into him. There was no way a bunch of humans could arrest five country representatives with centuries of experience in the art of war.

"Put your weapons on the ground !" A soldier before them shouted.

Absolutely no way.

"…δεν."

The Greek grabbed the closest country – Belgium – and jump into the canal. Taking advantage of the soldiers' surprise, Netherlands and Germany shot, gaining a little more time, before plunging in the dirty water with Poland.

Greece reappeared at the surface with Belgium and glanced at the militaries. They were five; two of them were wounded, and one of them was dead. The two safe guys were squatted next to their friends, their backs to the European nations. How unwise.

Waving his legs in the warmish water to stay at the surface, Heracles raised his gun and aimed at the closest man's neck.

He knew that he would regret it later.

The bang resounded in the sewer, immediately followed by another shot noise, from Belgium this time. The two men collapsed.

Greece got out from the greasy liquid, followed by his teammates. The sight of the five dead – or dying – soldiers and the odor his clothes was giving off made Heracles' stomach turn. They were so young. But he had had to shot. I attacked them by behind. He couldn't give them a chance to reply. They did nothing to deserve that. If he hadn't shot, he would be dead now. They were completely innocent. He couldn't die now; he had to avenge Japan's death. They were just obeying orders. But those orders were to kill him.

Heracles turned to the canal and throw up his last meal.

I'm not sure they give a damn for my excuses now.

* * *

δεν (Greek) : No

_A/N : There will be a few chapters about this team~_

_As usual, please fix my grammar._

_Also, I'm currently drawing a picture to illustrate this story._

_Hetalia © to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_This fanfiction © me._


	24. Hostage-taking

**A/N : Hi guys, a new chapter. I don't think it's very interesting but it's perhaps because I read it too many times. By the way, Laura is a potential human name for Belgium.**

* * *

Germany heard steps coming from the pipe they had just left. The humans were coming into the sewer.

"Greece, I'm sorry if you don't feel well, but we must leave…"

"Yeah. Don't worry – cough ! – about me, I'm fine now."

"What will we do about the soldiers you like, totally shot ?"

"The ones who're after us will take care of them ! For now, run !" Germany replied while grabbing Poland's arm and dragging him away from their victims, followed by the rest of the team. The five nations started to run flat out in the large sewer, trying to forget the atrocious odor and the sticky liquid on their clothes and hairs. They went deep into the labyrinth of pipe, not taking the trouble to wonder were exactly they were going. They turned left, then right, then right again, then left and then they stopped counting, they had lost any sense of direction. Their mind were more focused on not to slip in the darkness only lightened by the poor light of their cellphone. A few minute later, when they were sure that they had shook their pursuer off, they paused and collapsed against the wall to catch their breathes.

"Where are we ?" Belgium asked once she was able to speak again.

"I don't know…" Germany answered, panting.

"There's, like, a ladder over there, we could, like totally go out and see where we are in the city." Poland said, standing up.

"Poland, wait, where are you going ?" Germany shouted.

"Totally out !" the Polish replied while beginning to climb the ladder.

"Stop !" Ludwig yelled at him, but Feliks ignored him and reached the top. Germany sighed from annoyance and began to climb behind him. But before the German could stop him, Poland opened the manhole and went out. Germany heard a scream which was definitely not from the unwise nation, and flinched.

"Guys, follow me, we can't stay here anymore." the blond-haired man mumbled to his team, resisting to the urge to facepalm. Hereupon, he went out from the sewer, shivering from the cold draft…

…and realized that he had just arrived in one of the most frequented street of Washington. Scheiße.

Trying to ignore the freezing temperature of the winter, he looked around him, looking for the origin of the scream. Strollers were gathered around the countries, chatting in an undertone, some of them taking photos. Double Scheiße. In the middle of the crowd, a woman was hiding behind her husband/boyfriend, staring at the nation representatives with a terrified expression on the face.

Germany realized then that Poland and himself were carrying riffles. Triple Scheiße. Their outfit weren't putting matters right. Their clothes were covered in dirty water, sometimes tore. Their faces weren't better : none of them had slept well the previous night, and they had dark bags under their eyes. With the fact that they had just gone out from a manhole, Ludwig couldn't help but think that they were probably looking like kamikazes planning a terrorist attack. Which was a description quite close to the reality.

Belgium's head poked out from the open manhole, drawing the German's attention. The latter held out a shaking hand to the young woman, who went out, followed by Netherlands and Greece. Hereupon, Ludwig turned to Poland and, with a harsh, aggressive voice, spoke him :

"And now, Feliks ?"

Germany would have given anything to not have to use the Polish's human name, but he didn't want to give the human a clue concerning their identity. Poland opened his mouth to reply something, but a shout cut him short.

"Ey, you ! Stop !"

"I've already heard that somewhere…" Belgium mumbled.

In the street, a cop got out from his car and brought his hand at his side, where a pistol was hanging from his belt.

Ludwig didn't have enough time to think properly about a rational way to get out from this insolvable situation. He held out his arm and grabbed the first body he reached in the crowd of strollers, then dragged it to him and aimed his gun to the unfortunate human's head.

"Don't come closer !" Germany yelled. "Or I blow his brain out !"

The policeman immediately stopped. The American before Ludwig's gun barrel flinched in surprise and terror. The gawkers ran away, screaming. Next to him, Germany saw Poland let his jaw drop, showing an incredulous expression which surely matched their teammates'. The German didn't mind. He no longer minded.

"Put your pistol on the floor and kick it toward us." The cop hesitated. "Now." Germany added with a below freezing glance. This time, the human obeyed, slowly putting his gun on the tar, then kicking it to the nations. "You, in the police car ! Get out ! With the keys !" A second cop got out from the car and went next to his colleague. "Throw the keys to the small guy next to me." Ludwig said while indicating Poland with a head motion. The policeman threw the keys. Feliks, unprepared, failed to catch them, and the little piece of steel pitifully crashed on the ground.

Germany let escape an irritated sigh, only exacerbated by Belgium's giggles. The Polish squatted down to pick up the metallic object, mumbling an excuse which looked like 'I'm like, totally sorry, but he, like, threw it totally line out !'.

"Feliks, take the driving seat. Laura, on the passenger seat. Lars, you come with me and this guy in the back of the car. Heracles… Scheiße, there is no free seat anymore…"

"I'll – cough ! – sit in the trunk, it communicates with the interior – cough ! cough !. And I'll be able to sleep - cough ! – comfortably – cough !"

The whole team (plus the hostage and the cops) turned to Greece and stared at him with half-sad, half-shocked expressions on their faces. Poland, apparently not surprised at all by the Greek's suggestion, decided to get in the car and start it.

"Hey, guys ! If you, like, continue to do totally nothing like that, I'll, like, totally leave without you !"

The four countries joined the Polish, dragging the poor American citizen. Greece got into the trunk ('Are you sure it's ok..?' 'Yeah, it – cough ! cough – really don't – cough ! – bother me, don't worry.'), Belgium sat next to Feliks, and the hostage was installed between Netherlands and Germany, in the back of the car. After the German indicated him which road he had to take, Poland turned the siren on to have the priority, and began to zigzag at break-neck speed between the cars on the icy streets of Washington, leaving two confused policemen on the snow-covered pavement.

* * *

**Scheiße (German) : Sh*t**

**A/N : Don't worry guys, Poland won't be a nuisance all the story long. He'll have his badass moment too.**

**And about Greece… I was thinking that an in-trunk Greece was cute… And I can really easily imagine the scene**

**As usual, please check my grammar, and comments are always appreciated~**

**Hetalia © to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**This fanfiction © me.**


	25. Question

_A/N : Hi guys, sorry for the late. Had tons of HW._

_As usual, please check my grammar._

* * *

"Feliks ?" Germany asked, forcing himself to not scream in terror.

"Tak ?"

"Who taught you how to drive ?"

"It was, like, self- taught, why ?" the Polish answered, avoiding just in time a car they were about to crash into.

"Do you realize that you're going the wrong way, at 70kph, in the middle of Washington, on a snow-covered street ?"

"I, like, totally know that, why ?"

"Nothing…" the German answered, grabbing the edge of his seat to not be thrown against the door while the car was taking an umpteenth sharp bend. The tires skidded on the tar, screeching loudly, immediately followed by series of toots. Belgium was forcing her way into her seat, eyes widened in terror, while Netherlands was mumbling prayers in his native language. Trying to concentrate on something else than Poland's crazy driving, Ludwig turned to the hostage sat at his right. It was the first time he was really paying attention to him. He was a young brown-haired man, about 18 years old – Ludwig really hoped he wasn't minor; it would cause even more troubles. His brown eyes were widened in panic. His fists were clenched so tightly on his seatbelt that his knuckles had turned white.

Germany began to bitterly regret his act. The boy seemed terrified.

Suddenly, the bumps stopped. Ludwig took a look outside and noticed that they had gone out of the city, and that they were now on a large, straight road. There were fewer cars here, and Poland was no longer driving the wrong way.

The whole team sighed in relief. While Netherlands was beginning to roll a joint, Belgium turned to Germany.

"Is Gr… Heracles ok..?"

Scheiße. He had completely forgotten the Greek. He hadn't made a single noise since the departure. Even his cough had ceased… I hope he didn't hit his head or something like that…

Germany turned his head to look behind his seat, into the trunk. Greece was laid there, eyes closed. Oh no… Ludwig was beginning to imagine the worst, when he noticed Heracles' calm breathe. The German resisted the urge to facepalm. Instead, he turned back to Belgium and spoke up.

"He's sleeping."

"Oh." the young woman answered, not too surprised.

The whole party remained silent during a few minutes, finally able to enjoy the comfort of the car after the bumps and, mainly, after the damp and hard soil of the sewer. Germany was beginning to doze off when a soft voice brought him back to reality.

"Excuse me… I'm sorry if I'm wrong but… Aren't you some of the persons who are supposed to embody countries ?" the hostage spoke up.

Germany raised an eyebrow. Was the boy actually believing such a hoax-like story ?

"Where did you see that ?"

"At the TV. The newspapers were talking about it too, and there were photos with some of you. There were photos of you on the internet too…"

"Do you believe such a strange story ?"

"Well, they had evidences… Photos, false IDs and stuffs like that… And you guys are running away from the police and taking me hostage. That's enough for me."

Ludwig stared at the boy. He seemed less afraid than before. But this was dangerous. Once he would be free, he would tell everything…

"I won't tell anything."

"Pardon ?" Germany said, coming back to reality.

"I won't say anything about you. I won't sue you or tell the media anything. I just want to know if that country incarnation thing is true."

"Why do you want to know that then ?"

"Curiosity ?"

"We kidnapped you !"

"I'm not hurt or anything… I'm perfectly ok. And you don't seem to be bad peoples. Just knackered and panicked people."

Belgium and Netherlands were now staring at the young human. Germany clenched his fist. The boy wasn't lying, he could tell that. But that didn't mean that he would be able to hold his tongue all his life long…

"The whole story is true." he finally sighed.

"Lud- !" Belgium began, but the German interrupted her.

"Listen, he did nothing bad, and I pointed a gun at him, threatened him, took him hostage and took him with us. I think he at least deserves some explanations."

Netherlands glared at the blond-haired country. They stared each other like that for a few seconds, which looked like hours with the palpable tension. Finally, the Dutchman sighed, exhaling a large cloud of smoke which escaped through the slightly open window.

"All right. What's done is done anyway. I'm Netherlands." he said, hanging his hand out to the young man.

"That- that's really true !? I mean, you're really nations ? Oh, s-sorry, I mean thanks, err… My name's Edwin Carter, n-nice to meet you…" Edwin said while shaking the hand.

"I'm not really sure that it's nice to meet us in our current situation…" Lars answered, having another puff of cannabis.

"Ah, err, sorry..."

"Don't be sorry, it's our fault. My fault to be exact. I'm Germany. Sorry for earlier." Ludwig interrupted him, shaking the boy's hand as well.

"I'm Belgium !" the young woman exclaimed, turning her head to them. "And the guy who's driving is Poland. Don't worry if you don't remember all our names !"

"H-hello…" Edwin answered. Then he sighed. "You're quite strange, in a sense…"

"What do you mean ?" Germany asked.

"Err, nothing, it' just that… You're a bunch of immortal people whose identities have recently been uncovered, you're running away from the police, I'm your hostage, and you're introducing yourself like if we were new classmates or something like that…"

"Well… It's not like if we were professional kidnappers or members of a drug cartel… It's the least we can do to be forgiven for kidnapping you… And it wouldn't have been like that with everybody. If it was Russia or Belarus instead of us, you would be too hurt to even be able to speak right now."

"Are they that terrible..?"

As he was talking, a hand was put on the top of his seat and a head poked out of the trunk. The young man yelped in surprise, but then relaxed when Greece hang out his hand.

"I'm Greece. Nice to meet you." the Mediterranean nation said with his usual blank voice. After Edwin had shaken the hand, he let himself fall in the trunk and fell asleep two seconds later.

"I'm beginning to understand the economic crisis." the boy said.

"How the hell did he follow our conversation while being asleep !?" Germany exclaimed.

Nobody answered this question.

* * *

Scheiße (German) : Sh*t

Tak (Polish) : Yes

_Hetalia © to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_This fanfiction © me._


	26. Squat

_A/N : I hope Estonia isn't too OOC._

_As usual, please check my grammar, and comments are always appreciated._

* * *

Liechtenstein blew in her fists. Gott it was cold there. Her shoes had gotten wet by walking in the snow, and she could no longer feel her toes. Happily, her dress was quite warm, but still, being outside in the night in the middle of the winter wasn't the more agreeable thing in the world. And the poor Estonian she was following was shaking like a certain Latvian. His fingers, tensed on the briefcase which was containing his laptop, were beginning to turn blue. At least the young girl could put her hands in her pockets, her own laptop being in her backpack.

Whatever. She didn't give a damn after all. She was terribly worried about her brother, would he be all right ? She definitely didn't want him hurt. Well, she shouldn't worry that much, he wasn't really an easy-to-kill kind of guy. But still. Until now, Switzerland had avoided any alliance, and it was this permanent neutrality which had protected them. But now, the point was to be able to work all together…

But where was she going anyway ?

"Where are we going exactly ?" she asked Estonia.

"Mm ? I told it to you when we left the sewer. We'll squat an empty house, so we'll have some food, a warm place, electricity and Wi-Fi." the young man answered, not stopping walking. "Christmas holidays have started a few says ago, it should be quite easy."

"Ah yes, sorry, I wasn't listening… But-but isn't squatting illegal ?"

"We don't really have any other option… And we both saw it when we were pirating there correspondences, the humans who revealed our identities aren't all clean. They corrupted people to get evidences, they bought weapons illegally, and some of them are even implicated in drug traffic. I don't think that squatting a house is that bad compared to what our enemies do." Eduard explained.

Liechtenstein sighed. She would hate using somebody else's house without his permission. To be true, she hated doing anything illegal. She had seen world conflicts starting over little offenses.

But well, they would just squat an house, right ? This wasn't like if they were going to kill somebody. _Yeah, this is your brother's job. _No, no, no, no. She mustn't think about that. Nevertheless, she note to herself to pay compensations to the owner of the house.

_Well, now, let's think about something else. Something happier, such as… such as…_

"M-Mr. Estonia ? Wh-what do you think will happen to the humans who're implicated in this story ? I mean, all of them aren't criminals, there also are journalists who were only doing their job by publishing articles…"

_I said something happy._

Whatever.

"Well, the police will take care of the criminals… About the others ones, we'll say that they were manipulated or threatened."

"A-All right…" the girl nodded. And then frowned. What did the Baltic nation had said a few seconds ago ?

"W-wait, you've just said that Christmas holidays started a few days ago…"

"Yeah, so what ? Weren't you aware of that ?"

"O-of course I was, the question is… Why were we having a meeting during holidays ?"

"We were supposed to talk about this year's Christmas party at the end of the day, but… _It _happened and… Hey, I think this house is empty." Eduard exclaimed before walking to the door of a white house.

"What makes you think that it's empty ?" Lily asked, not minding the brusque change in subject. The house looked just like all the others ones.

"The letter box. It's completely full. Anyway, I'll ring, so we'll see if there's anybody." Estonia answered, pushing the doorbell.

Liechtenstein glanced at the letterbox. As the matter of fact, letters were spilling out of it and there were parcels on the ground.

"I don't think there's anybody here…" the Baltic nation mumble after ringing for the third time.

"How will we go in ?"

"No idea. By breaking a window ?" Estonia suggested.

"The neighbors will hear us... And-and what if there's an alarm ?" Liechtenstein replied.

"If there was an alarm, there would be a notice on the door who would say that there's an alarm. America thinks that that dissuades the burglars to go in."

"But America always leaves his door open anyway… And what will we do about the neighbors ?"

"They didn't react when I rang three times, I don't think they'll do anything if I break a window…"

"That's still a bit risked…"

"I've gone through worse… And even if there's an alarm, we should be able to escape before the police come." Hereupon, Eduard walked to the nearest window, took his pistol from his pocket and smashed the glass with his gun's butt. The window crazed; it wasn't a solid glass. Estonia hit it once more; this time the pane shattered in little pieces. The Baltic slid his arm in the new-formed hole to reach the window handle, then he turned it and opened the window.

"See ? No alarm." he said while turning to Lily. "Can you hold that a second please ?" he added while hanging her his briefcase.

"J-ja, sure…" she answered, taking it.

The Estonian jumped through the window and landed inside the house; then he took the girl's bags and helped her to go in. When they were both inside the house, he closed the shuttered and the window, so the hole couldn't be seen from outside; then he turned on the light.

Liechtenstein blinked at the sudden light. When her vision was accustomed to the luminosity, she looked around; they were in a living-room. At her left, the front door was leading outside. In the wall in front of her, another door was giving onto the kitchen. There was a second floor she could reach by walking up stairs.

The living-room itself was quite comfortable; it was warm, well not very warm since the heating was off, but it was still better than outside. There were a couch, an armchair, and a low table Estonia had already invaded. The Baltic had plugged his computer in and was beginning to turn it on.

Lily walked over to the table and settled her own computer on it. She was looking for an outlet when Eduard's voice drew her attention.

"Liechtenstein, go to sleep. I'll manage by myself this night."

"I won't let you do all the work ! I want to be useful too !" she replied.

"I never said that I'll do all the work. Tomorrow, you'll take my place so I'll be able to rest. But for now, go upstairs, there must are bedrooms, and get some sleep. You're knackered."

Liechtenstein sighed and headed for the stairs. Hell yes she was knackered; her eyelids had never felt so heavy, and her limbs were shaking with tiredness. But she would never be able to fall asleep. Her thought were constantly coming back to Switzerland; she was so afraid that he would get hurt, or worst, killed. She felt tears coming to her eyes as she reached the second floor. She hated when he had to go to war and she couldn't follow him. She wished she could be with her no matter when. But she would probably be useless; worst, she would be a weight. Sighing, she opened a random door; she was lucky, it was a bedroom. Perhaps exhausted people had a sixth sense to find beds. Without taking the time to undress or anything, she collapsed on the bed. Gott, she was stiffed all over. She let her muscles relax, enjoying the comfortableness of the mattress. _Vash probably doesn't have a bed, him… _No, no, no, no ! She shouldn't think about him. She shouldn't think about him. She shouldn't think about him…

A few seconds later, Liechtenstein was dead to the world, her dreams focused on various good moments she had spent with her brother.

* * *

Gott (German) : God

_A/N : Nothing much to say today. Dear reader, if you exist, please comment !_

_...I'm feeling like if I was talking to the flying mint bunny or something like that..._

_Hetalia © to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_This fanfiction © me._


	27. Split

17 minutes, 39 seconds and 11 tenths of second.

They had reached the airport, which was about 50 kilometers away from Washington, in 18 minutes.

Which mean that they had driven at… 170 kph on average ?

Germany swore to himself that he would never let Poland drive anymore.

During their short trip, the five nations had continued to talk to Edwin. They had learned that he was 18 – thanks God, he wasn't minor. They had left him with the car in a forest before they had reached the airport, with the order to call his parents - or whoever he wanted - at least one hour later. The boy had only seem too happy to comply, overexcited by what he had discovered about the group of nations. Germany hoped that he would be able to shut his mouth, or he would have trouble repairing his burden. Gott, I hate improvising.

Ludwig and his teammates were now hidden behind a random car, in a parking close to the airport employees' entrance. With the glacial temperatures, nobody was there to notice their presence, and the only noise resounding in the freezing air of the night was Greece's coughing noises. But the price to pay for this tranquility was the cold piercing through their light clothes. The five nations were freezing, despite their effort in warming themselves up by blowing in their fists or rubbing their arms.

Germany sighed, exhaling a cloud of steam. He was relieved that the boy hadn't gotten hurt. He was feeling sick only for having taking him hostage, so if they had had to kill him, the German would have regretted it for the rest of his eternity.

Suddenly, Poland's phone rang, drawing the whole team's attention. Trying to stop shivering, Feliks took his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen.

"It's Estonia." He informed the others before picking up. "Halo ?"

"Estonia speaking. I'll be fast, since we haven't too much time before the police trace our call. I managed to hack the airport's security system, but it won't last long. You've got half an hour. Good luck." Hereupon, Eduard hung up.

The five countries stayed like that, shaking and staring at the phone for a few seconds before Poland finally reacted. He put his phone back to his pocket, then rested his back against the car behind him.

"You, like, totally heard him. We, like, have to go now. So, what's the plan ?"

The four others nations stared at each other, knowing that they had absolutely nothing planned. An awkward silence settled, only disturbed by teeth shattering noises and Greece's coughing fits. At the first place, they had just thought about breaking into the airport, "deal" with the aircrew and steal the plane. They hadn't thought about the details. At all.

"Let's – cough ! - just go and we'll see." Greece spoke up, standing up.

"Are you insane !?" Germany retorted, grabbing Heracles' pants. "We can't just-"

"It's too late to think about a plan now. We've got half an hour. There's no point in losing time." The Mediterranean nation replied.

Ludwig let go of his teammate, clenching his teeth. Improvising really was more his older brother's thing. Germany hated having nothing planned. Nothing assuring him his victory, nothing to tell him if what he was doing was right.

He hated it so much.

He stood up, hiding the fear growing inside of him, and cocked his rifle.

"All right. Let's go."

He looked around and, seeing nobody, walked to the white concrete building. His teammates followed him, the snow crouching under their feet. When he reached the door, Germany half-opened it and cast a glance inside.

"Can you see something ?" Netherlands asked.

"I can see a room… A quite large one… There's a door on the opposite wall, it seems to be the only other entrance. I can see two security agent too… they're armed."

"Can we – cough ! – shot them from here ?" Greece asked, stifling a coughing fit with his fist. Germany couldn't help but notice that the Mediterranean nation was wiping his hand on his pants.

"Do we really have to kill them ?" Belgium asked.

She knew the answer.

Of course she knew it.

But she was still allowed to hope, right ?

…right..?

"I'm afraid we haven't any other option." Ludwig answered, looking away.

Yeah, we won ten more seconds of awkward silence. Great.

"Can't we, like, stop waiting in the cold and attack ?" Poland finally broke the silence.

"Are you impatient, Poland ?" Germany looked down at the green-eyed boy, who had sat on the ground next to him.

"We, like, have a deadline, right ? I'm just, like, trying to be totally realistic."

Is his brain working the right way only when it can contradict me ? the German thought.

"He's right." Greece managed to approve between to coughing fits. "We can – cough ! – talk about that later."

"If that's so… Well, on three. One, tw-"

"THREE !" Feliks cut Germany.

The Polish kicked the door open, raised his sub-machine gun and shot. The first guard collapsed without even having realized what was happening. The second man brought his hand to a gun at his belt, only to be interrupted by a bullet from Greece which hit him right in the forehead.

"Bull's eye, Gr-" Poland began.

"BEHIND YOU !"

The Polish turned his head and was only able to catch the sight of a third security agent pointing his gun at him before he was tackled on the ground by Germany. Gunshots rang out in their ears, coming from both sides, then a fall noise. Then the silence.

After a few seconds without moving a limb, Germany opened his eyes, raised his head and looked around. The corpses of the three security guards were lying in the dust, eyes wide open in a last expression of surprise. Ludwig sat up, releasing Poland underneath him. The Slavic nation sat up as well, rubbing his forearms and mumbling.

"Bóg, that like, totally hurts. I like, totally not saw this guy. Dzięki, Germany."

Said country stood up and looked behind him. Netherlands was putting his gun back to his belt, his expression as blank as usual. A bit farther, resting his back against the wall, Belgium was patting on Greece's back, trying to comfort him.

Ludwig swallowed the wrong way when his eyes met the Greek's ones. They were widened in an expression of pure terror. His teeth and fists were clenched so hard that his nails had broken the skin, and a few drops of blood were dripping from his palms. His breathing, broken with coughing fits, was shaking and wheezing. To crown it all, his skin had turned a few shades paler.

Frowning, Ludwig walked to Heracles, wondering why he was so frightened. He was about to ask him when he noticed bullet holes in the wall millimeters above his head. It was a close call… Germany thought, throwing an understanding glance at the brown-haired nation, who was slowly stopping shaking.

"Why is nobody coming ? We weren't really discreet…" Netherlands asked.

"The walls must be soundproof…" Germany answered.

"Yeah, but still-"

"Guyyyyyyyyyyys ! Come here !" Poland shouted from where he was looking through a window.

The four nations walked over to the Polish, avoiding the three dead bodies, then looked out through the window. It was overlooking the runway, on which planes were parked.

"What's happening ?" Belgium asked.

"Look at this plane there ! Isn't it, like, Greeks letters written on it ?" Feliks exclaimed, pointing a plane about a hundred meters farther.

"It's – cough ! cough ! – right – coughrurgl !"

"Are you ok ?" Poland turned to Heracles, who was nearly choking.

"D-dust…" the Greek managed to answer between two coughing fits.

"Let's continue." Germany suggested, suddenly remembering their deadline. "We don't have too much time."

Nodding in agreement, the team walked to the door. After casting a glance outside, they went out and arrived in a long corridor lightened by a white artificial light, with metallic doors on both sides.

"Which door..?" Germany began, but Netherlands cut him off.

"They lead to hangars. There are the names of the owners of the planes written on it." He pointed out.

Ludwig nodded, then followed Poland who had already gone ahead. A minute later, Feliks stopped before a metallic door which looked like all the others ones.

"It's there."

Germany met him and looked at the door. Fixed on it, a panel was saying :

HANGAR n°7

HIRED TO : Αρκάς Σούτσου (Arkàs Soutzo)

He tried to open the door, only to find it locked. Sighing, he grabbed his pistol, aimed at the locker and shot. Once, twice, the locker broke. He kicked the door open, but the team stayed in the corridor, waiting for a reaction. Seeing as no sound was coming, Germany took a look outside.

It was a large empty hangar whose tall metallic walls were lightened by powerful spots. The gate was wide open, revealing the small plane parked just before the building, ready to fly. His white fuselage was showing up against the black sky. Nobody was there, no noise could be heard, and if they hadn't been such in a rush, the group of nations would have appreciated the quietness there.

"Why is nobody here to stop us ?" Germany worried.

"The airport employees have probably gathered everybody somewhere else when they realized that their security system wasn't working anymore… That's probably also why nobody heard us earlier." Belgium answered.

Nodding, Ludwig walked to the plane. Stairs were leading to an opening in the side of the aircraft. That's too easy in a way, the German thought while climbing the stairs, followed by his teammates. Something is missing, he continued, getting into the cabin and sitting in the pilot's seat. It's too calm, too…

Germany's jaw dropped at the realization.

Silent.

Ludwig slowly stood up and turned to his teammates.

The missing thing is a noise.

"Something wrong, Germany ?" Belgium asked while sitting in the copilot seat.

A coughing noise.

"Where. is. Greece ?"

* * *

Gott (German) : God

Bóg (Polish) : God

Dzięki (Polish) : Thanks

_A/N : Double chapter again~_

_Sorry for using the metric system, I just can't use the miles._

_We're gone for a few chapters with this team, I hope you still like this fanfic. As usual, please check my grammar, and comments would be greatly appreciated._

_Hetalia © to Hidekaz Himaruya._

_This fanfiction © me._


	28. Cough

Cough.

Cough. Cough. Cough.

Cough. Cough. Cough. Cough. Cough. Cough. Cough-huarkgl !

Greece doubled up with pain as he was choking with his coughing fits. He leaned on the wall of the corridor and brought his fist to his mouth to stifle the noise. He continued coughing for a few seconds, his coughing fits growing more and more violent. _Cough. _His throat was burning, irritated by the cold and the incessant cough. _Cough. Cough. _His lungs were far worst; they had been tortured like that for months, and now they were tired of those efforts. _Cough. Cough. Cough. _He could feel his temples throbbing, his head desperately claiming oxygen. _Cough. Cough. Cough. Cough. _Tears of pain were rolling down his cheeks; he needed to breathe, to breathe, to breathe, to BREATHE ! _Cough._

Heracles breathed in deeply when his diaphragm finally calmed down. He was feeling giddy; he would have given anything to be somewhere else. Somewhere _warm. _What was he doing here in the first place ? What had they done to have to run away like criminals ? _Silly humans._

Greece's eyes went to rest on his fist, the one he had used to stifle his coughing fits. There was a few drops of blood. _It has only been growing worse since yesterday. _The Greek brought his sleeve to his mouth and wiped away the blood which was dripping on his chin.

_Well, I won't stay here until the cows come home. _Hereupon, he began to walk again, trying to control his feverish shivers. He reached the end of the corridor; he glanced at a notice board on the wall and turned left. He continued walking, stopping every five minutes to cough and spit out a little blood, until the corridor forked once more. He turned left, then right, then climb some stairs. The setting had changed; Heracles was no longer in a cold passage with metallic doors, he was now walking in a large, warm corridor, with wall-to-wall carpet on the ground. Only the lightning was the same, white and artificial.

Greece jumped in surprise when he felt something vibrate in his pocket. He quickly took out his phone and checked the caller – it was Germany. The Mediterranean nation cleared his throat and picked up.

"γειά σου…" he began.

"GREECE !You… you… arschloch ! Where the hell are you !?" Germany yelled, bursting Greece's eardrum.

"Germany, lower your voice. You're – cough ! - hurting my ears. And stay polite."

"Stay polite !? We had reached the p… our destination, and suddenly you disappear ! And now we have to use our probably tapped phones, and we have barely ten minutes left before the deadline, and we have to find you, and you want me to STAY POLITE !? And what's with this blank voice ?" Ludwig continued shouting.

"Don't – cough ! cough ! - look for me. And this is my – cough ! - normal voice."

"I know this is you normal voice, that's precisely that which is wrong… And why shouldn't we go and look for you ?"

"I can't – cough ! - come with you. I would only be a nuisance in my current– cough ! cough ! cough ! - state."

"What the hell do you mean…?" the German asked. "Wait… Don't tell me that your economic troubles are _that _bad !?"

"I don't think it's only my – cough ! - economic situation. I must have– cough ! cough ! - caught something in the sewer; which means that it's my human body which is ill – cough ! cough ! coughurkgl !"

"Greece ! Are you all right ?" Netherlands voice asked through the phone.

"Δεν."

"What ?"

"No."

"Wait a second !" Belgium spoke up. "No matter how ill you are, we can't just let you behind us !"

"Greece, he's right. I don't mind if you disagree, we'll go and look for you. So now tell us where the hell you are !" Germany got angry.

_Σκατά, they're stubborn._

"Wait a – cough ! - minute. I _must _stay here. Me - cough ! cough ! - me being ill isn't the - cough ! - only reason. There's something I - cough ! cough !- have to - cough ! -do here - cough ! cough !" Heracles' sentence was choked by an umpteenth coughing fit. The Greek doubled up and stifled it with his sleeve, staining it with blood. Well, it wasn't like if it was perfectly clean at the first place.

"I, like, understand totally nothing between your coughing fits…" Poland mumbled.

"IsaidthatIhadtostayherebecau sethereissomethingIhavetodo." Greece repeated.

"Then tell us what !" Germany yelled.

"Not by phone. And I'm afraid I'll have to hang up, or the security system will come back before you could leave. Anyway, don't look for me and go away."

"Wait a min-" Greece cut Ludwig in the middle of his sentence, then dropped his phone on the ground and crashed it under his shoe. _Japan would have fainted if he had seen that, _Heracles thought while collecting the pieces of his broken phone.

"_Tuuut… Tuuut… Tuuut…"_

"Did he hang up ?" Belgium asked.

"Apparently he did." Netherlands answered.

"I'll… I'll try to call him again." Germany said while dialing the number again.

"_We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service…"_

"What the hell ?" Ludwig groaned.

"He must have broken his phone." Netherlands answered.

"Scheiße !" the German shouted, nearly breaking his own phone by hanging up a bit too violently.

"Hey, Germany, calm down ! Like, totally !" Poland told him.

"How can I be calm in this situation !? And now, what are we supposed to do !?"

"Go away from here ?" Poland suggested.

"And let him behind us !?" Belgium spoke up.

"It's the only rational choice." Netherlands replied. "We haven't enough time to go and get him, and even if we find him, he wouldn't want to come with us. We can't force him to come."

"But he's ill and… and he'll be alone against the humans !" Belgium retorted.

"Don't worry about him. I, like, don't really know him. But I can like, tell you that he's totally not born yesterday. He'll be, like, totally fine." Poland said.

Germany sighed deeply. He had fought the Greek during WW2, and he could tell that he would be perfectly able to manage by himself if he was in his normal state. But Heracles was ill, very ill. And this time, it wasn't an army against another army. It was a manhunt.

Ludwig eventually sat down in the pilot's seat and started the plane's engine. Belgium, in the copilot's seat, turned to him.

"So we let him behind us..?"

"If only we could avoid it." The German answered while leading the plane to the runway.

He felt so tired.

* * *

δεν (Greek) : No

γειά σου (Greek) : Hello

Σκατά(Greek) : Sh*t

Scheiße (German) : Sh*t

Arschloch (German) : Assh*le

_A/N : __I've now posted here all the chapters I've written. You'll have to wait for the next one now._

_Hetalia © to Hidekaz Himaruya.  
This fanfiction © me._


	29. Flashback

**A/N : Hi everybody, thanks for the nice comments~**

**Not a super-interesting chapter - that's why I posted it earlier than usual - but it's quite important for the rest of the story.**

* * *

Greece was turning in another corridor when he heard muffled voices coming from behind a wooden door. He grabbed his sub-machine gun, which was hanging from his shoulder thanks to a strap, and cocked it. Then, his left hand on his mouth and nose to stifle his whistling breathing, he came slowly closer to the door and, dropping on all fours, pressed his ear against it.

"What, you can't get the security system back !? Is it so easy to hack !? I must be in Europe tomorrow, your incompetence makes me lose my time !" a man was complaining with a light Greek accent.

"Sir, our computer engineers are doing their best to counter this attack…" another man answered.

"Make them work faster !" the angry Greek voice cut him.

"Sir, we can't take this problem lightly. This can be a terrorist attack; our lives are perhaps in danger."

"Really ? So not only I'll be late because of you, but I risk to die too ? You'll pay for this, I'll show you ! And why didn't you call the cops !?"

"We did. They should be there within fifteen minutes."

"Tsk !"

Heracles' face was still blank. But his inner self was anything but calm.

He recognized this voice.

This voice belonged to a man called Arkàs Soutzo.

No, not a man, a f*cking son of a b*tch !

Greece knew him. Hell yeah he knew him. He knew him _very well._

_Four years ago._

_Athena, Greece._

"_Greece !"_

_Said country opened his eyes and removed a sleeping cat from his chest. Sitting up, he turned his head to the middle-aged man who had just woken him up._

"Ναί_, Boss ?" he answered with his usual blank voice._

"_How many times will I have to tell you to not sleep on the floor of your office..? Well, never mind. Those," Greece's boss said while putting a huge stack of paper on a wooden desk. "are the minutes of yesterday's meeting. I need this classified for tomorrow, understand ?"_

_Heracles didn't answer immediately. _Θεός, _the stack was huge. Did his boss really wanted it for the next day..?_

"_Any objection ?"_

"_Δεν, δεν …" he sighed. Not like if he could refuse anyway._

"_Good. Also, I beg you, don't bring cats here anymore." The human said while leaving the room._

"_Sure, sure." Greece answered when he was sure that his boss couldn't hear him anymore. Then, he went to his desk and began to do his paperwork. This was going to be a long day._

"…_Excuse-me..?"_

_Heracles opened his eyes. He had fallen asleep on his paperwork._

_Bringing a hand to his aching neck, he turned to the direction of the voice. A young brown-haired man in a dark grey suit was standing at the entrance of the office._

"Ναί _?"_

"_I'm looking for the room 215, and I'm, err…"_

"_Lost ?"_

"…_Ναί…" he answered._

"_No problem, this place is huge. It's ok to get lost." Greece said while standing up. "Follow me." He added, leaving the room._

_While he was leading the man to the room 215, he continued the discussion. There, he learnt that his name was Arkàs Soutzo, that he had been recently hired at the Treasury Department, and that it was his first day of work. When they reached the room 215, aka Arkàs' new office, the young man thanked Heracles and the latter came back to sleep on his paperwork._

_They met each other again during lunch time. Arkàs found himself to be a polite and intelligent young man, who was particularly interested in philosophy and history. No need to say that a few days later, he and Heracles were pretty good friends. Being both very busy, they couldn't meet each other very often, but they enjoyed every lunch taken together. Arkàs wasn't aware of Heracles' real nature, but it wasn't a problem. Having human friends was pretty rare for nations; they usually lived surrounded by hypocrite politicians. This boy was too young to be able to lie to a seventeen centuries-old nation. Lack of experience._

At least, that was Greece had thought back then.

_ Greek legislative election, 2009._

_Athena, Greece._

"_I really hope that Karamanlís will be reelected. I don't want to lose my job here." Arkàs said while taking a gulp of ouzo. He and Heracles were at a pub in Athena, where there was a TV. Everybody there was waiting eagerly for the results of the legislative elections._

_The cat- loving country remained silent, sipping his drink. He wanted Papandreou to be elected. And he knew very well that if he, Greece, wanted Papandreou to be elected, then he would be elected. He was feeling bad for his friend, but he didn't want Karamanlís to remain his boss._

"_Now that the votes had been counted up, we'll announce the results. Our new Prime Minister is… Geórgios Papandréou !"_

_Inside the pub, exclamations of joy and disappointment resounded. Heracles saw Arkàs' smile fading, surprise and disappointment in his eyes._

_But not only surprise and disappointment. There was another emotion shining in those eyes, an emotion that Greece wasn't able to identify at this moment._

_Later, this emotion found itself to be a mix of fear and anger._

_Heracles suddenly felt something vibrating against his leg. He brought his hand to his pocket, took his phone and checked the dialer. _Turkey. Σκατά.

"_Sorry, have to answer." He excused to his friend before reaching a calmer corner of the pub. "What do you want ?" he asked while picking up his phone._

"_Hey Greece ! What an enthusiastic answer ! Be more expressive, ya've got a new boss, right ?"_

"_Idiot. It's none of your business. Now leave me alone." Hereupon, he hanged up. And turned his phone off._

_He came back to the bar where he had left Arkàs, but he didn't find the young man. When he asked the barman about him, he said that the boy had paid both their drinks and left the pub seconds before. _Perhaps somebody called him, _Heracles thought._

_He waited for his friend for ten minutes, then tried to call him. He didn't answer. Perhaps he had been called to an urgent business. After that, the Greek left the pub and called a taxi to come back to his house. The next day was going to be long and tiring._

_Eleven days later, Papandreou revealed the true – catastrophic - state of the Greek finances._

_Twelve days later, huge misappropriations of public funds were exposed. Some employees from the last government were suspected. They weren't found guilty. Lack of proof._

_Among those employees, a certain_ _Arkàs Soutzo became later a very influent man in the political party of New Democracy._

* * *

**Ναί (Greek) : Yes**

**Θεός (Greek) : God**

**Δεν (Greek) : No**

**Σκατά (Greek) : Sh*t**

**A/N :**_** New Democracy **_**is a Greek political party. Its leader, Antonis Samaras, is the current Prime Minister of Greece.**

**I have nothing against Karamanlís, Papandréou, **_**New democracy **_**or any Greek politician or political party. Besides **_**Golden Dawn.**_** In my opinion, **_** Golden Dawn **_**is neo-nazism.**

**Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya.  
This fanfiction © me.**


	30. Fail

**A/N : Far. Too. Long. Chapter.**

**Far too long update too. Have been drawing a lot lately. I'll write and draw 'till I faint from lack of sleep during Christmas break.**

* * *

**Present days.**

**An airport in Washington DC, USA.**

Greece was breathing heavily, his lungs and throat burning. His head was pounding with fever, but he didn't mind. His thoughts were focused on the man at the other side of the wooden door.

On top of being a hypocrite and a traitor, Arkàs Soutzo was – at least part of – responsible of Greece's economic state. And he wasn't going to call it quits. This man was _dangerous._

And now, now that he was only a few meters away from Heracles' gun, there was no way he could go out from here alive.

When Greece had noticed the black limousine with a Greek license plate in the parking, he had known that Arkàs was here. And in his current state, he would only be a weight for his team. Heracles didn't want to be a weight. He had his pride. Like a cat. Cats were prideful. Greece liked cats. Cats were cute too. He wanted to go back to his place to see his cats. _Oh my. _Who would feed them now ?

The Greek shook his head. Not the right moment to think about that. The neighbors would take care of his cats.

Holding his rifle tight, he slowly moved his hand to the doorknob and grabbed it.

"Are you planning in going in and shoot him just like that ?" a voice came back from behind him.

Stifling a cry of surprise, Greece whirled and raised his gun towards the voice. His eyes widened with surprise when he recognized its owner.

"Wh… What the fuck… Turkey !? B- but you're- !" he exclaimed in an undertone, giving up his blank expression. _Wow, am I delirious ? Is my fever so high ? _He brought a hand to his forehead. _Ouch, hot. Ok, so I'm delirious._

"Go away from here. I don't need you to annoy me even after your death." He mumbled.

"Idiot." The hallucination answered.

" 'Idiot' is a word you usually use to designate somebody less intelligent than yourself."

"Shut up and answer me, you bastard. Seriously, what had gotten inside your head ?"

"A fever."

"Still, where are your logic and quietness ? Killing in cold blood isn't like you."

"That guy deserves it."

"What, you, Greece, the country which gave birth to philosophy and democracy, you agree with taking the law into your hands ?"

"First, it was my mother who gave birth to philosophy and democracy. Not me." Heracles replied. "Second, it's the best I can do now, I can't follow the other ones…" he continued less confidently. The fever was beginning to boil his brain and black points were dancing before his eyes. And his lungs… Hell they were burning. He wasn't coughing anymore, but perhaps it was only because his diaphragm was too tired to do it. His state had only been growing worse for the last minutes. Perhaps there were riots in Athena again.

"Hey, you moron, are you listening to me !?"

"No." Greece answered the hallucination. _Like if I needed an imaginary Turkey to give me a headache. The real one do a pretty good job on his own, when economic troubles don't take care of it._

"I said that this was a shitty excuse."

"I'm enough of a burden economically speaking, I don't want to force my current weakness on them…. Especially on… Germany…" The Greek mumbled with a shaking voice.

"It's still a shitty excuse ! And you're only avoiding the original question, is this a revenge in cold blood, yes or no ?" Sadiq asked with a wide grin.

"It-it's not a revenge… Ok Arkàs was my friend, ok he betrayed me, but he couldn't know I was a nation…"

"So if it's not a revenge, what is it then ? You're about to kill him, ya know."

"I… I'm just… sparing the others some troubles… They've stolen his plane… If I kill Arkàs and make his body disappear, the police will perhaps think that it was him who pirated the airport security system to be able to escape… and that he flew away to Mexico or somewhere like that… and if there's an investigation about him, the truth about him will perhaps been revealed…"

"You've just found this excuse right now, right ? It's even worse than before. Why can't you just say the truth ? I'm not really Turkey, I'm an hallucination, I'm from your own spirit ! Just admit to _yourself _that you're completely mad and that it's a vengeance, bastard !"

"OF COURSE IT'S A VENGEANCE, YOU ΗΛΊΘΙOΣ!" Heracles snapped, bursting into tears. Keeping his voice in an undertone was beginning to be hard now. "But I'm not supposed to feel so… vengeful… towards a human… Even though I considered Arkàs as a friend, even though he betrayed me, I'm a nation, it's not the first time I endure that, it's not the last time either… If I react like that every time it happens, how many people will I have to kill..?" he continued to sob.

He was breaking down.

He couldn't stand it anymore.

Why.

Why did he have to go through that.

Why was he alone again. Why was he debating with a hallucination. Why was he sat in the corridor of an airport. Why was he holding a rifle. Why was he thinking about shooting a guy. Why was he drooling blood in his hand. . Heracles could feel his people's distress in his own heart; it hurt as much as the physical pain. Why was he still fighting this crisis.

If only he could roll up into a ball, sleep and never wake up…

"It's okay."

Greece raised his head, eyes red and swollen with tears. Turkey had disappeared. The one who had just talked had a far less annoying face; he was Heracles' best friend.

Japan kneeled down to the Greek, as calm as usual. _I'm delirious, _the latter thought. _I'm completely delirious._

"It's okay to be mad at this guy." Japan continued.

"Be- because it's a criminal..?" Heracles sobbed.

"Yes, too. But mainry because he was your friend and he betrayed you."

"B-but he's a human… and I'm a nation…"

"It doesn't matter. No matter if it's by a human or a nation, when you're betrayed, it hurts. It's normar to feer mad at this. It's the proof that you have feerings."

"Does that allow me to kill him..?"

"Not at arr. But right now, you're not a nation. You're just a poor irr guy wanting to get revenge before his death." Kiku stood up. "So now, just kirr him and get over this."

Greece closed his eyes tight, trying to calm down his heavy breathing and the tears rolling down his cheeks. When he re-opened them, his face was blank, even blanker than usual, and Japan had disappeared.

_It's not normal to think that way._

_But I don't give a damn anymore._

He stood up on shaking legs, turned to the door and grabbed the doorknob.

Suddenly, he opened the door slightly, slid his gun's barrel inside the room and shot towards the ceiling. Yelps of surprise and terror came from the office, but Heracles interrupted them.

"Arkàs Soutzo. I know you're here. If you don't want me to shoot both you and the other man who's with you, go out of here now."

From the slightly opened door, Greece saw Arkàs slowly walking to the door, hands up. The Mediterranean nation stepped forward to let him out, his rifle still pointed at him.

The human stepped out and his concerned face faded into a surprised expression. _Even if he knows I'm a nation now, he probably didn't expect me to go here to kill him._

"_He-Heracles !? But… What the… What are you doing here !? And what's with the rifle and… Wait, it's you who pirated the security system !? No no no, first of all, I've read in the newspaper this entire nation representative story, and you're…" _the man began to ask in Greek.

"_Shut. up. You're not… in the right situation… to ask questions." _Greece answered in the same language. _Σκατά, I'm panting. Damn fever._ _"Now let's go out. Go ahead. I stay behind you._ Also, you in the office, if you go out, I kill Mr. Soutzo._" _He continued.

Arkàs opened his mouth to protest, but he closed it when his former friend stepped forward, rifle pointed to his chest. He was serious.

The human turned his back to Heracles and began to walk, following the green lights on the walls which were indicating the emergency exits. Heracles was walking behind him, rifle still pointed at his back. It was a chance that Arkàs couldn't see him. His whole body was shaking with fever. Blood was dripping in the hand he had put on his mouth to stifle his heavy breathing. His vision had half-turned black, and it seemed that there was an axe stuck into his skull.

But there was no way, absolutely no way, that he could die before Arkàs. Even if his own death was only temporary.

Suddenly, a shrilling alarm rang out, shooting through Greece's eardrums and head. _Ok, perhaps there's a way, finally._ Grunting in surprise and pain, he dropped his rifle to bring his hands to his ears, letting it hanging to its strap. _Θεός όχι. Not now. The security system._ He was about to shout something to Arkàs when he felt a weight hitting his stomach.

The sudden pain made his legs give up underneath him. He collapsed on the floor, spitting out blood and vomit. His vision turned black for a moment, and when it went back, it seemed that the décor had suddenly decided to dance a tango. He tempted to grab his rifle but a foot hit his face, knocking him out for a second. When he re-opened his eyes, Arkàs was standing above him, one foot on Greece's chest. In his hands, Heracles' rifle was pointed to the nation.

"Ark-" the latter began with a weak voice when the alarm finally stopped.

"_Shut up, Heracles. Or should I say Greece..?"_

Said country flinched. He had to deny. _"I'm not… a nation or anything... This story is just-"_

"_The truth. Don't try to deny it. Actually, don't say anything." _Arkàs pressed the barrel of the rifle against Greece's chest. The latter closed his mouth, knowing that the man above him wasn't the one he had befriended with a few years ago. This one would shoot him without remorse.

Steps were heard from the end of the corridor. Heracles turned his head, excepting some help, even if it implied to be arrested by the American police. It would still be better than staying there on the ground with a rifle pointed at his chest.

Three guys came to them. They were wearing military-like clothes, although Greece was unable to recognize any uniform. They didn't seem to be American soldiers…

"There you are. You're late." Arkàs spoke up, in English this time. All Greece's hopes faded away, and fear began to grow inside of him. If the police had been on Arkàs' side since the beginning, then he would have just fallen into a trap. _No, it can't be a trap. Too twisted. And they wouldn't have asked a foreign politician to help them. And if this was a trap, they would have tried to catch Germany and the others too, not only me. _Unless the plane was trapped as well ? Hell, no…

"The alarm was a good distraction, but next time you should think that it would affect me too. My ears are whistling because of that." _Ok, they're definitely not policemen or anything. Even Arkàs wouldn't speak like that to them._ Not like if that was good for the nation on the floor. "Well, knock me that out and take it away from my sight." The politician continued, indicating Greece with a head motion.

The latter opened his mouth to protest, to shout, to call for help, to anything, but before anything could go out from his mouth, one of the pseudo-militaries sent his rifle's butt in the back of the Greek's head.

"_You know, Greece, I'm more drenched into this case than you seem to think. I'm more powerful too. Also, remember next time : airports don't have an alarm." _Heracles managed to hear before his vision turned black.

"_If there's a next time, at least. Oh, he passed out . Well, never mind."_

* * *

**ΗΛΊΘΙOΣ ! (Greek) : MORON !**

**Σκατά (Greek) : Sh*t**

**Θεός όχι (Greek) : God no**

**A/N : It's nearly Christmas~ I don't have a clue about what I could give to my parents OTL.**

**BTW, we're over with this team for a few chapters now.**

**Edit 22/12/12 : Added Japan's accent.**

**Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya.  
This fanfiction © me.**


	31. Stowing away

**A/N : Dear reader. I'm sorry. But I'm knee-deep in a writer block. I'm writing sh*t.**

**By the way, only one person noticed that I posted chapter 13 instead of chapter 22 ?**

**Whatever... Enjoy.**

* * *

"Hey, Liet !"

Lithuania sighed deeply, feeling his stomach aching in advance.

"Yes, Poland ?" he managed to smile while turning to his friend.

"I've, like, just totally seen a super pink dress in this shop ! Can, you, like, totally go there with me and tell me if it suit me well ?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm com-"

"Lithuania ! Lithuania ! LITHUANIAAA !"

Toris flew his eyes open and sat up abruptly. His forehead met something hard and a loud thunk resounded in his skull.

"Ouch ! Ve, I'm sorry for waking you up ! Please don't hit me ! I'll do anything you want ! Veee !" Italy cried, his hand on his head.

"Ouch… M-Mr. Italy, please calm down ! You-you'll wake up the other ones !" the Baltic nation whispered, rubbing his forehead.

Waiiiit a minute. Wake up the other ones ? Why was he sleeping with Italy, China and Sweden ?

…First of all, where was he ?

Rubbing his sleepy eyes, Lithuania looked around. He was in a dark hangar, with wooden and cardboard boxes piled everywhere. China and Sweden were laid on their coats, sleeping deeply despite the vibrating floor.

…The vibrating floor ?

Oh, yeah. They were in a freight train.

Wait, what ? Of yeah. The scandal about their identities. They fled. And then… He had gone to a mall with Italy… They had stolen clothes (oh, how great it was to wear dry, warm, clean clothes). And finally, China had knocked a train driver out and the whole team had sneaked into the car.

"Lithuania..?"

"Oh, sorry Mr. Italy, I was just… reminding yesterday's events. Is it my time to keep watch ?"

"No, no, I've only been on guard for half an hour… But I want to go to the toilet, and I don't know where to go !" the Italian answered, crying.

_Ouch, problem there. _Toris thought while feeling his stomach beginning to ache with stress.

"I-I think there's a door which lead to an outside platform there…" the Lithuanian began while walking to the back of the car. "But you'll have to… do your business overboard, and the train is running…" he continued.

"There's no problem with that, I'm not afraid of speed, ve… And it's really urgent !" Feliciano exclaimed, following the Baltic.

"Ok, but I hope that the door is," Toris grabbed the doorknob and tried to turn it. Closed. "open." He sighed.

"I-it's closed ? But I need to… to…" Italy began to cry again.

"Mr. Italy, please calm down ! Somebody may hear us ! And don't worry, it's an emergency door, it must be open, the doorknob is just a bit hard…" Lithuania said in an undertone, hitting the doorknob until it finally turned. The door opened onto sort of platform lashed by a freezing wind. Not minding the light but nevertheless glacial rain falling on him, Italy dashed outside and began to undo his belt. Lithuania looked away while Feliciano was doing his business. He clenched his fingers on his coat with cold. Strangely, the Italian had chosen the perfect size for everybody's clothes; the fur-lined-jacket Toris had received fit him perfectly. Maybe an inheritance from his older brother France.

"I'm done !" Veneciano's voice pulled Lithuania out from his thoughts.

The two nations came back to their sleeping teammates. Italy, a bit hungry and finding the place sinister, suggested to cook something, before realizing that he had forgotten his camp stove in the sewer. He had to content himself with a packet of cookies.

"Lithuania, there's something I want to ask you…" Veneciano began between two mouthfuls.

"Yes, Mr. Italy ?"

"Oh, don't call me 'Mr.', just 'Italy' is fine… _Buono, _I wanted to ask you, why did you explode the gas pipe in the mall earlier ? I mean, it was dangerous, both for you and the humans over there…"

Toris bit its lip. He had thought about that too.

"I think… I think that I did wrong. I… didn't know what to do… I wanted to leave as few evidences as possible… I thought too much about a plan, it got complicated and I ended up failing miserably…" The Baltic nation bent down his head, avoiding Italy's closed eyes. What he had done earlier felt terribly wrong now. He had endangered innocent humans, destroyed things which didn't belong to him, and ended up killing a man. Seriously, what was he thinking about at this moment ?

"Lithuania, it's okay…"

Said country looked up at Italy. The latter had come next to him and was rubbing Toris' back in a comforting way.

"It's okay to be wrong sometimes. The important thing is to never drive to despair and continue to go ahead. What's done is done; you'll do better next time."

Lithuania buried his face in his hands. He envied the Italian so much. He envied his cheerfulness, his capacity to get over anything so easily. Poland was the same, it had to be the reason he and Veneciano had befriended. Toris wished he could think that way, erase all his old grudges against everybody, forget the past and build new relations with Russia, the others Baltics, Germany, perhaps even Prussia.

But Lithuania was a resentful person, and every time he looked at a face, bloody memories were coming to haunt his mind.

"M… Italy, could you leave me alone for a moment, please ?"

"Ve ?"

"Go to bed, I'll keep watch from now on."

"Is something wrong, ve ?" Veneciano asked with a worried voice.

"No, nothing. I just need to be alone with myself. I don't think I'd be able to sleep right now anyway."

Italy sent him a skeptical look – well, as skeptical as closed eyes could be – but eventually stood up and lied on his jacket, next to China. Three seconds later, he was asleep.

Lithuania leaned his back against a box and stretched his arms. He grunted as his stomach protested, it was aching with worry. Yes, the Baltic was worried. And not only a little. Would Poland be okay ? And what about America ? And the others Baltics ? And Belarus ? And, by the way, what about everybody else, and the humans ? Nobody deserved to die. Even temporary.

Feeling the urge need to talk to somebody, Toris grabbed his phone and turned it on. Nearly no more battery. Well, there should be enough to call one of his friends. Sighing, he typed a number and brought his phone to his ear.

"Hello, Estonia ? I'd like to talk to Mr. America, how long can I talk to him before our phone are tracked ?" He asked. Security before everything. He didn't want to endanger anybody because he felt lonely.

"I can secure the line like I did with my phone…" Eduard answered. "But it would be easier to leave me a message."

"No, I want to talk to him myself. By the way, how are you ? Are you still in the sewer ?"

"Ok, I'll secure the line." The Estonian answered, beginning to type on his keyboard at a frightening pace. "And no, Liechtenstein and I are squatting an empty house. She's sleeping, we're both safe. Thanks for asking. And you ? Nothing wrong ?"

"No, everybody is ok. I'm the only one awake. Italy got us new clothes."

"How lucky… I'll seriously need a shower when Liechtenstein will replace me. Well, I'm done. I pass you America. Good luck."

"Good luck to you too." Toris answered before Estonia hung up. A few seconds later, a new voice picked up.

"Lithuania, is that you ? Is something wrong ?" Alfred asked, a little worried. "Estonia told me that you needed to talk to me…"

"Don't worry, nothing is wrong… First of all, do I disturb you ?"

"No, not at all. We're waiting for our bus, it must arrive at 10 o'clock, and I'm freezing my ass as hell. Well, Mattie stole us new clothes, so it could be worse, I guess. It's funny how easy it was for him, he just went into the shop, took the clothes and went out, nobody noticed anything. To be true, I haven't even noticed he had gone in when he went back with all his things. Whatever. Belarus is being his usual psycho self. Latvia is shaking. Mattie is comforting Miss Big Boobs who's crying like a fountain about this commie bastard of Russia. Which mean that I have absolutely nothing to do, so I'm bored as hell, so you don't bother me at all."

Toris smiled at Alfred's comments. The American was really free-minded. The Baltic clenched his fist on his phone. He felt so lonely. So hollow. So useless. So sad.

"Mr. America… Can you please… continue to talk ?" he asked with a shaking voice.

"What ? Well, of course I can continue talking, but why ?"

"Please, don't ask. Just talk. I need to hear somebody's voice."

Alfred paused a second. His friend wasn't acting naturally.

"Well… If that's what you want. After all, I'm the hero, and the hero always helps his friends ! And if what you need is to hear somebody's voice, then I'll talk ! No, I'll do more than this, I'll tell you some good news !"

And then America talked. He talked about what he had read on the Internet about their case, he said that most of the people were thinking it was a hoax. He joked about the authorities unable to stop the leak; they had no evidence against this association, even though it was all corrupted by various mafias. The nations would have to deal with that themselves. They would all be the heroes, and it would be awesome. He talked about the association, apparently the only reason it was working was because their boss was paying well. Said boss was harshly protecting his identity, but there were rumors which said that he was a rich politician or a businessman.

Suddenly, America stopped talking. Raising an eyebrow, Lithuania looked at the screen and noticed that he had no more battery at all. Well, never mind. He had really enjoyed talking with the American. With Estonia too. It had been awhile since the last time they had only asked each other about how they were. Despite what everybody else was thinking, the Baltic trio wasn't united the slightest.

Glaring at his sleeping teammates, he sighed. The two days he was going to spend in this train were going to seem long.

Mainly if they had to eat non-cooked canned food.

* * *

**Buono (Italian) : Well**

**A/N : Italy is cruel in a sense, don't you think ?**


	32. Bad mood ?

**A/N : You have full right to hate me for writing this !**

* * *

Far away from Lithuania's existential questions, on a desert Canadian road, a helicopter had landed a few minutes ago. The ones who had brought it here weren't far away from there, in a small airport in the middle of the countryside. More precisely, they were trying to climb the fence which separated them from the runway.

The smooth, icy, three meters-tall fence.

"Atchoo !"

Spain sniffed, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He was feeling dizzy.

"Be m-more silent, you b-bloody idiot, somebody will hear you !" England scolded Antonio, shivering with cold.

"Hey, calm down, Eyebrows. You're louder than him – and you're not the one who's ill." Prussia retorted in an undertone. On his head, Gilbird chirped to agree.

"It's his f-fault if he's i-"

"Just shut up." Gilbert glanced at the British so coldly that the latter didn't reply. "Franny, can't you hurry up ?" the German continued, turning to his friend.

Said Frenchman, in equilibrium on Russia's shoulders, was trying to step over the fence without falling miserably on the other side.

"_D-désolé, _but it's p-pretty tricky, and it's d-damn cold, my hands are shaking…" he answered.

"Th-the faster we'll be in this b-bloody p-plane, the faster we'll be warm !" Arthur hissed through his clenched teeth.

"I know z-zat, but it's harder zan you s-sink…" Francis replied before finally sitting on the fence. "R-Russia, don't move, I'm s-still leaning on you…"

"_Da, _I know that. You have a foot on my head." Ivan answered, smiling under his scarf. The foot in his sand-colored hair didn't seem to bother him at all.

"I'm n-nearly zere… Wow, it's t-tall ! Ok, I'll ju-uuump !?"

France was about to jump from the wall when his foot slipped on the icy concrete. Managing to not scream, he fell on the runway and crashed pitifully in the snow.

A certain chick seemed to snigger. But chicks don't snigger, right ?

"Are y-you all r-r-right, Francis ?" Spain asked.

"Sniff- It's cold ! Atchoo ! and wet, sniff…" the blond mumbled.

"We were asking if you were hurt !" Prussia groaned. He still was in a strangely bad mood.

"No, I'm okay…"

France looked around in the night. No one had seen him, apparently.

On the other side of the runway, concrete one-story buildings were standing in the dark. A window was lightened, but the shutters were closed. The runway itself was clear; snow was only on the sides. A small white plane was waiting next to the buildings.

"There's snow on the other side too, _da_ ? So falling mustn't be dangerous." Russia spoke up.

"_Oui…"_

"_B-bueno, _m-m-my t-turn n-now…" Antonio walked to Ivan, who bent down to give the Spaniard a leg-up.

Well, it _seemed _that he was going to give him a leg-up.

But as soon as Spain had put a foot in his hands, the Russian threw him over the fence like a ball. The poor Antonio held back a scream of terror while he was going flying. Two seconds later, he crashed without pain on Francis' back, whose face buried in the snow, stifling his protestations.

"Who's next ?" Russia asked with his usual innocence, finding his teammates' astounded face very funny.

"What… What the b-bloody hell p-passed through your mind !? You c-could have killed him, you b-bloody moron !" England yelled when he was finally able to speak again.

"It's faster that way. And there's snow on the other side, _da _? So it's not dangerous. I could have done the same with France, but I wasn't sure if there was snow. Also, you know," the Russian added while giving off a dangerous aura. "I don't really like to be called a moron, England."

The latter didn't even think about replying. The giant country was far too scary. Oh, Arthur wasn't afraid of him, of course. It was just prudence. Yes, prudence. Not fear. At all.

"Well, now I'll help you and Prussia to sit on the fence, and then you'll help me to go on the other side, _da _? I can't jump this on my own." Ivan said, recovering his usual fake cheerfulness.

"Err… sure, sure…" England agreed. "Hmm… P-Prussia, I'll let you g-go ahead !" he added while pushing the albino toward Russia.

"The fuck !? What are you saying you bast-"

"There, there, Prussia, you'll have to do it anyway, you know ?" Ivan cut him.

"Mrmbl… 'kay…" Gilbert walked over to the Russian and, without hiding his disgust, let Ivan help him to climb on the wall.

On the other side, Spain was worried.

A few days ago, Prussia would have tried to climb the fence by himself five or six times before only thinking about asking for some help. And now, he was letting _Russia _give him a leg-up with only a grumble ? _Seriously, what's wrong with him ?_

"Are you s-speaking ab-b-bout Gil ?" France asked behind Antonio.

The Spaniard turned to his friend. _Did I think aloud ? _

"_Si, _I was thinking th-that he had b-b-been acting w-weird for the last d-day." He answered, watching Prussia and England hauling Russia on the fence. "Look, a few d-days ago, in th-th-this situation, he w-would have j-j-jump the w-wall and let Russia m-manage b-by himself." He continued, blowing in his bandaged fists to warm them up.

"Perhaps zose k-killings are getting over his b-brain ?"

"N-n-no, he's m-more the kind of people who w-would appreciate th-this… S-since our d-d-deaths are only t-temp-porary…"

"Mmm…" France concluded as the three others nations were jumping from the wall.

"Let's g-go to this b-bloody p-plane before my fingers d-drop…" England ordered, hands under his armpits. His chilblain had already begun to heal, thanks to the super-fast-healing capacity all the nations have. His hand would be back to normal within half a day if nothing happened before.

The five nations walked to the small plane, the only one on the runway. The fact that no one was trying to stop them was making them feel uneasy. Paradoxically, they were a hundred times more tensed than if they had been in the middle of a battlefield. Their fingers were clenched on their guns, ready to raise them and shoot. Although, they were nearly all doing a great job to hide their nervousness. Nearly, because France wasn't even trying to fight his fear and was just hiding behind Spain's back, jumping at every noise.

England wished he could take a photo and post it on Facebook.

They were a few meters away from the plane when a door in the concrete building opened. Three men and a woman went out and headed for the aircraft, chatting.

The group of nations didn't have enough time to hide. One of the men spotted them.

"Hey ! Who are you and what are you doing here !?" he shouted them.

The five countries stared at each other.

"What-are-we-doing-now-?" England asked quickly, tightening his grip on his pistol.

"Let's just charge it, _da _?" Russia answered, cocking his M16 rifle with a wide smile.

"Wait a bloody min-" Arthur began.

"He's right ! There's no point in losing time ! Let's go !" Prussia cut him, following Ivan who had already walked away.

"Stop already !" France suddenly let go of Spain and chased after the two eastern nations. "What are you plan-"

The rest of the Frenchman's sentence was drowned by series of shots. Russia and Prussia had gunned down the four humans.

Spain and England ran to their teammates. Antonio couldn't help but gasp in horror when he saw the carnage. Francis, after staring at the corpses for a few seconds, turned away and threw up the contents of his stomach.

"What… What… What…" Arthur himself wasn't immediately able to find the right words to yell at the two eastern countries.

"What, what ?" Prussia groaned, brushing Gilbird's feathers. The yellow bird was staring at the bodies with blank black eyes.

"What the bloody hell have you d-done !?" England snapped. "What do b-both of you have inside the skull, a b-black hole !? You d-didn't need to kill them !"

"England, I'm afraid you're wrong." Russia began with a soft voice. "First, they'd seen us, we couldn't leave them alive. Second, I don't know if you noticed, but this plane is closed. How surprising, this man here," He indicated one of the corpses with a head motion. "has a key in his hand. It's probably the one which open the plane. Third," His eyes darkened. "I thought about all of that before shooting. I'm not sure you can permit yourself to call me an idiot, kolkolkol~"

"Duh… O-ok, sorry… Well, what's done is d-done anyway, b-better go in this p-plane before somebody else die." England concluded. As he had said it earlier, he wasn't afraid of the Russian. He just wanted to be in the aircraft and stop shivering like Latvia. Yes, why would he be afraid of him ? It wasn't like if he was freaking the hell out of him so much that he wanted to hide behind his unicorn. Not at all.

"_Da, _sure, let's go." Ivan's eyes came back to their normal shade as he headed to the plane, followed by Gilbert and Arthur. Behind them, France and Spain were dragging their feet in the snow, careful of letting at least five meters between them and Prussia. The latter was clenching his teeth silently, his face wearing an expression that used to be seen on Romano's face. He seemed ready to bite anything which would have come a bit too close.

"I th-think that we'll n-need t-t-to have a little d-discussion with G-Gil." The Spaniard whispered.

"_Oui, _b-because here, eizer the auth-thor had d-decided to make him c-completely OOC, eizer it's not G-Gil, eizer he really has a p-p-problem." Francis answered. He was still shocked by the massacre his friend had committed without remorse. Only thinking about the dead bodies was making his stomach twist. He had suddenly remembered how much he hated war. They needed to talk to the albino, to make him tell them what was wrong, before he made an even more serious burden.

Even though Prussia was no longer a nation, he used to be a real war machine. He could find himself very dangerous. France had often thought that Gilbert was perfectly able to get back a territory and a government all by himself. The only thing which had stopped him was Germany. The ex-nation cared about his little brother so much that he had sacrificed what remained of his power to give it to Ludwig.

But now, the albino could perfectly decide to take advantage of their situation and get back a geographical situation. Gilbert and his experience in fighting were no longer a precision weapon, rather a time bomb. And at this very moment, Prussia seemed very close from snapping, and Germany wasn't here to control him.

"We had better find out ze reason of his bad mood before he goes beyond the point of no return." The Frenchman concluded.

* * *

**Désolé (French) : Sorry**

**Si (Spanish) : Yes**

**Oui (French) : Yes**

**Bueno (Spanish) : Well**

**A/N : By the way, it would be nice to get some reviews, or else I'll lose interest in writting this. I want to give this up and write oneshots... For the ones who's not aware of it, you can post reviews even if you don't have an account.**

**No next chapter if I don't get reviews, guys. Just one word is enough.**

**Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya.  
This fanfiction © me.**


	33. (Bad) Friendship

**A/N : I'm terribly sorry for not updating this for so long. School has been taking most of my time last month. I probably won't be able to go on updating about once a week like before, but I'll do my best to update as often as possible.**

**If you don't remember it, I suggest you to read the last chapter again.**

**Short summary of the story so far : The nations were arguing in a world meeting, when Japan received a phone call which tell them that their identity as nations had been found out by an unknown association, and that they told it the media. The nations tried to flee, but a few of them are killed. Since they can only rely on themselves, they decide to dismantle this association themselves and they split into teams, and most of them now have to leave the United States, where the meeting took place.**

**Russia, England, France, Spain and Prussia managed to reach the Canadian territory, but they now have to find a way to go to Siberia.**

* * *

The five nations eventually reached the plane. It was really small, there was barely enough space for the whole team. Russia got in, sat in the pilot's seat and began to start the engine. England, behind him, just collapsed on three of the passenger seats. He needed to rest.

Prussia was about to follow the British when his two arms were grasped and he was dragged away from the aircraft door. Gilbird chirped in protestation.

"What d'ya want !?" he barked angrily when France and Spain stopped dragging him.

"Piyo." The little chick added.

"W-why are you acting zat w-way ?" Francis asked him calmly.

"I'm acting the way I want." Gilbert stepped forward to the plane but was stopped by his friends. They wouldn't let him go until they got the answers they wanted.

"What's wrong with you, _m-mon ami _? T-tell us, we're your f-friends." The Frenchman continued.

"Nothing is wrong." The albino tried to walk away but was once more stopped by Spain, who caught his shoulder. Gilbird, sharing his master's annoyance, flew to his shoulder and began to peck angrily at Antonio's hand.

"_Si, _s-something is wrong !" Spain was beginning to lose his patience. "You're aggressive t-toward everybody, you k-k-kill humans without b-batting an eyelid, you act logic, you agree w-with _R-Russia, _and you haven't said 'awesome' for _t-twelve hours _! Don't d-deny it, s-something is w-w-wrong, _m-mi amigo _!" he exclaimed, sniffing. His runny nose and his stuttering were ruining his accusing tone.

"That's none of your business !" Prussia protested, trying to free himself from the Spaniard's grip without hurting him.

To those words, Spain felt the anger rising inside of him like a fire. Suddenly, he wasn't cold anymore. What was wrong with Gilbert today ? They had been friends for centuries; their friendship had survived wars, revolutions, government changes, dictatorships, genocides, _dissolution_and the Prussian wasn't trusting them enough to tell them what was wrong ?

Spain breathed in deeply, then exhaled a cloud of vapor.

And then punched his friend in the jaw.

The albino, surprised, took the blow in the face and fell in the snow. Gilbird flew away, peeping in surprise, before coming back to his owner's head.

"What have you just said !?" Antonio yelled when Gilbert turned to him, his eyes wide open with shock. Next to Spain, France, as astonished as the Prussian, decided to watch without intervening.

"Of course that's my business !" the Spaniard continued. "You're my friend, Gilbert ! My _bad _friend ! You and Francis are like brothers for me ! I tell you two all my problems, my worries, my ideas to annoy Austria ! My bad friend's business is my business, understood !? And same goes for Francis ! No matter what you've done, no matter what you'll do, we'll be with you until the end, got that !? So tell us what's wrong so we can get over it !" he concluded, orange flames dancing in his emerald eyes like a forest in fire.

Gilbert stared at him a few seconds, mouth open. That wasn't every day that you could see Spain getting angry. To be true, it was as rare to see Spain angry than to see Japan or Tibet angry. The Mediterranean nation was always wearing a wide smile. Not a childish one like Russia's, but a real smile, a smile which would have warned up a tombstone in Siberia. Smiling was a principle for him; being happy was inscribed in his genes. Even if the world had collapsed around him, he would go ahead and see the bright side of things.

But they were things he couldn't be happy about, and mistrust was one of those. So he was angry. No, not angry, completely mad at his friend who was staring at him like an idiot, a dark bruise beginning to appear on his left cheek.

Suddenly, at both Francis and Antonio's surprise... Gilbert burst into tears.

The two Western nations knelt to their bad friend, patting his back to comfort him. Gilbird went down on the Prussian's shoulder and stroked his cheek in a very humanly way. Spain bit his lip. Had he gone too far ?

"_Lo siento, _Gil, _lo siento… _I didn't mean to…"

"_Nein, nein, _it's not your fault at all… It's me who has to be sorry; I acted like a jerk… That was un-awesome… And I mistrust you… That was even more un-awesome…" the albino sobbed, burying his face in his arms.

"Zere, zere, Gil, calm down… We forgive you, _oui _? We won't hold a grudge against you because of zat… So now, tell us what's wrong."

"I… I…" the Prussian continued to sob. A minute later, he eventually calmed down and managed to say a coherent sentence. "I'm horrible… Am not ?" he asked, his head bowed so that his eyes weren't visible.

"_Mi amigo, _what make you think that ?"

"When I heard about Austria's death… the first thing I thought was… _'Finally'"_ Gilbert answered.

France pouted. True hatred was a touchy topic with the nations. Usually, feelings toward another country were very volatile. Hate could turn into total indifference or even love within a few years. And for a nation, a few years were nothing.

But Prussia, without his people's feelings to help him, had real troubles to adapt to the modern world. That was why he acted like he did, having fun non-stop, never serious, often wasted. He was unable to accustom fast enough, so he hid it behind his I-don't-care behavior.

"That isn't all" the albino continued. "I saw Hungary taking this gun. I could have stopped her I could have avoid her death. But at this moment, I just thought… _'It's her business'. _And then, when China was crying over Japan's death… It was a _'Those things happen; he didn't die as a country but as a human; it's only temporary, so stop hurting my eardrums with your crying.' _And now, I'm feeling… excited. Excited of fighting. But that's wrong, we're not on a battlefield, we're not at war, and I'm not even a country anymore… I used to enjoy fighting, but now I'm just acting like a murderer."

"Is that why you killed those humans ?" Antonio asked.

"No, I just did that to chill out. Fuck, I'm killing people to chill out now. I really am a bastard." The albino answered, raising his head to look at the starless sky with eyes filled with sadness.

France forced himself to smile. Since they had been on so many battlefields, since they had seen so many people passing away, nations could react different way when it came to kill people. Some of them couldn't bear it. Some of them felt bad at it, but didn't hesitate when they had to. Some of them enjoyed it. And some of them really didn't care. Prussia belonged to the last category.

France breathed in deeply, thinking about what he was about to say. Gilbert's current problem wasn't a temporary problem, more an after-effect of his dissolution. The Prussian was spending his life walking a tightrope. If Francis said anything wrong, he could involuntarily finish depressing his friend.

The Frenchman gulped, realizing that if he continued to think that way, Prussia could perfectly decide to hang himself someday. _Merde, why didn't I notice his problems sooner ? Even if those recent events have only worsened it, those troubles didn't come out overnight… He must have been hiding them for months, years… Decades, maybe ?_

"Gil." _Take your time, Francis, choose the right words. You can do it._ "Yes, sinking zat is horrible." The blond immediately earned shocked glares from Spain and Gilbird. _He wouldn't have believed me if I had said the contrary. Mon Dieu, this bird acts a little too human. His eyes are penetrating. _"But zat doesn't mean zat you're horrible yourself." Francis continued. "You hate Austria, so your first reaction was normal, mainly since his death is only temporary. Zen you realized zat zat wasn't fair, and you regretted it. With ze tensed atmosphere, you sought too much about it and you ended up loathing yourself. But Gil," The Frenchman put a comforting hand on the Prussian's shoulder. "You don't deserve that. You're far better zan you sink. You're awesome, remember ? You're Prussia, ze great strategist who kicked my ass in 1870. You're able to defeat an army with a toothpick if you want it. So prove us once more zat you're just zat awesome and find awesome strategies to trash zose idiot humans in an awesome way." France concluded. And then hold his breathe, waiting for his friend to react. _I hope I said nothing wrong…_

Gilbert closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He opened his mouth, about to say something.

But then, remaining silent, he wrapped his arms around his friends and held them tight. He was crying again, and the two others were afraid that France could have successfully depressed him, before they finally noticed the smile spreading across Prussia's face. Those were tears of joy.

"I," he sobbed. "I love you, you awesome retards…"

They stayed like that in the snow, laughing and crying at the same time. After a few minutes, they began to be cold again and they went to the plane.

"Can we eventually go away, comrades ?" Russia asked when they got in, an annoyed look on the face. He wasn't oblivious enough to not notice that something was wrong with Gilbert, but he was beginning to think that this "talking" was taking time.

"_Ja, ja_… _Nein, _wait a minute."

Ivan raised an eyebrow when the albino went out and came back with snowballs in his hands. Spain opened his mouth to ask what the hell he was planning, but changed his mind when Gilbert slowly made his way to a sleeping England.

The whole party held its breathe when Prussia stretched out his arms, the snowballs right above Arthur's head.

The Prussian dropped the snow.

England immediately woke up and let out a not-too-manly scream as the cold material began to slide on his neck. Trying to sit up to brush away the snow in his hair, he fell from the seats he was sleeping on and crashed face-first on the floor.

The Bad Friend Trio was choking from laughing too much. Gilbird was chirping happily. Ivan was chuckling lightly, happy that the uneasiness in the team was gone.

The laughs ceased when Arthur stood up slowly, a Russia-like aura surrounding him.

A few minutes later, the plane had taken off and was on his way to Yakutsk. England had fallen asleep again. Next to him, France and Spain were dozing off as well. In the copilot seat, Prussia was rubbing a big bump on his forehead.

"Well, it was worth it. Kesesesese~"

It would have been perfect if this bastard of Russia wasn't right next to him. Hopefully they wouldn't be here all the flight long.

* * *

**Mon ami (French) : My friend**

**Si (Spanish) : Yes**

**Mi amigo (Spanish) : My friend**

**Lo siento (Spanish) : I'm sorry**

**Nein (German) : No**

**Oui (French) : Yes**

**Mon Dieu (French) : My God**

**Merde (French) : Sh*t**

**Ja (German) : Yes**

**A/N : I'm not sure if "all the flight long" is grammatically correct...**

******Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya.  
This fanfiction © me.**

**Edit (24/02/13) : Fixed a grammar mistake (thank you WttseLegend).**


	34. Bus trip

**A/N : Shameless late update. Blame my school.**

**Poland's height is aproximative, since his official height hasn't been revealed yet. I assumed he was about 20 cm shorter than Russia...**

* * *

America and his teammates were playing cards in a desert bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive. After Lithuania's call, Alfred had suddenly noticed how _heavy _the silence was and had suggested to play something. Latvia had taken out a deck of cards which was lying in his pocket, and they had beginning to play poker.

Awesome idea. And now they were freezing their ass playing cards on a bench, with an even heavier silence. Or rather _America_ was freezing his ass playing cards. His teammates were all used to the cold. But Alfred was perfectly okay with the cold, of course, heroes are never cold. And heroes never lose all their money playing poker with ex-commies.

So, in summary, America and his team weren't cold at all and were having a lot of fun playing poker in the snow when the bus finally arrived. Alfred quickly put on his hood to half-hide his face and jumped in the nearly empty bus.

"Oh my fucking God why couldn't you arrive earlier, it's a freezing hell out here." He said loudly to the driver. "Well, five tickets, please." He added while the others nations were getting in. Alfred paid the tickets with what little money he had managed to keep and the party headed for the back of the bus, avoiding the others passengers' eyes. America collapsed in a seat next to the window. Belarus, behind him, sat as far as possible from the American and turned to the opposite window, her expression blank. Canada and Ukraine sat next to their respective siblings and Latvia took the place in the middle. The poor Baltic nation was shaking even more than usual. America wondered if it was from the cold, the loss of blood, or Belarus' presence. Probably some weird combination of the three.

After a few minutes, the European nations began to doze off. Alfred, as far as he was concerned, wasn't tired at all. He had slept very well the previous night, since he didn't suffer from the time difference.

In order to forget how bored he was, he listened to the Christmas song the bus' radio was emitting. _It's nearly Christmas… _he thought. He looked at the few passersby outside. They were nearly all laughing, chatting, happy anyway. The American suddenly felt… hollow. He remembered Lithuania's call. Perhaps it was the same feeling which had pushed him to look for some company. As the matter of fact, America would have given anything to be somewhere else. He wanted to go out, do a giant snowball battle with everybody, party hard with his friends, and be close to the ones he loved. But this year, he wouldn't be able to simply hug his family.

Alfred was pulled out from his thought by the Christmas song ending, replaced by the news. He listened more attentively; perhaps he would be able to get some news about England.

"_Now we have a scoop !" _the journalist began. _"The boy kidnapped this afternoon by five nation representatives had just been found dead in a forest next to Dulles airport. His body had been found by policemen looking for him. He was in the police car the supposed nations had stolen; he has been shot in the head. The main suspects for now are his kidnappers; we'll repeat their descriptions : Feliks Łukasiewicz, a green-eyed man with long blond hair, 1m60; Ludwig Beilshmidt, a blue-eyed man with short blond hair, 1m80…"_

The presenter continue talking, describing Netherlands, then Belgium and Greece. America suddenly felt like if everybody in the bus was staring at him. As he was sinking deeper into his seat, he tried to think about what he had just heard. _A kidnapping ? A murder ? It must be a misunderstanding; Germany would never do that… Either they had a good reason, or it's a misunderstanding… Unless it's a plot or something..? Fuck, it look like some twisted action movie. Wait a minute, if it's a movie, I'm the hero, so I have to save them ! It's what heroes do ! Ah, but I don't even know where they are… Fuck, my head hurt. I don't like thinking that much… _America sighed. He was worried about those five nations. Even though he didn't know them very well, they were all on the same side, and he trusted them… _If only I could do anything… I'm stuck in that fucking bus with absolutely nothing to do, it's so boring…_

"Alfred."

Said American turned to the owner of the voice and, after wondering who the hell he was for three seconds, he asked :

"What's wrong, lil' bro ?"

"With me ? Nothing. But with you, there's something wrong. You're nervous."

"Hey, didn't you hear the radio ? It's normal to be nervous ! Do you think they really-"

"Of course not they didn't !" Ukraine replied angrily, surprising the two North Americans. "I know Belgium; she's one of my best friends. She would never do that. She would rather prefer being killed. Same goes for his brother; he's blunt and serious, but that doesn't make him cruel. And by the way, same goes for everybody, none of us would kill an innocent ! Can't you trust them ? They all deserve it… Only thinking that they would do that… You're mean… What would you think if somebody was talking about you that way..?" she began to sob, then to cry. Why did she always had to end up crying each time she was saying a word ? She was so sensitive…

Canada went next to her and shyly patted her back, whispering comforting words. Katyusha immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and buried his face in the two watermelons XXL she had instead of breasts. Matthew flailed his arms, not knowing where to put his hands to escape from the Ukrainian's death hug.

"Mmm, Miss Ukraine ? I think that… Err… That he's going to suffocate to death if you don't release him." America pointed out, even though he was a little – just a little – jealous of his twin's position. Suffocating in those hell of boobs was probably one of the nicer death he could think about.

Although, Ukraine let go of Canada, apologizing profusely and beginning to cry again. Which woke Latvia up. Who began to cry as well. Then Alfred tried to comfort the two East Europeans by telling them that they all were heroes and that heroes don't cry. If that worked quite well with Katyusha, Raivis found himself scared of America's loud voice and his shakings improved. Canada then tried to calm down the Baltic while making Kumajirou stop moving. Because before they had went in the bus, Matthew had told him to act like a real teddy bear, but since it was Canada who had said that, he had already forgotten. But Latvia was scared of Kumajirou and he was on the verge of passing out. And the polar bear was asking for some food. There Alfred threw himself in a verbal fight against him about what was better between fish and hamburgers.

And then Belarus woke up.

"Can't you stop doing so much noise ?" she asked in an undertone, but with so much venom in her voice that everybody shut up. "You're drawing everybody's attention !" she added, indicating the bus passengers with a head motion. As the matter of fact, some of them where staring at them with suspicious eyes.

Latvia made his way into his seat, trying to imitate Canada and disappear. Ukraine hugged Kumajirou tightly and whispered him a lullaby. The polar bear soon fell asleep. Matthew… Well, he had to be somewhere on his seat.

Alfred wasn't happy. The awkward silence was coming back. And he was finding himself being the only one standing and still chattering – because even Belarus couldn't make him shut up. No, there was no way in hell that a psycho communist chick could make him shut up. Whatever. At this very moment, he was feeling a little stupid. Because everybody in the bus was staring at him.

He mumbled an apology and came back to his seat. While sitting down, he mumbled – nearly inaudibly - a 'bitch' directed at Natalya.

Happily the Belarusian had enough self-control to not publicly jump at America and rip his throat open. No, ripping his throat open would be too gentle. She would cut the tendon of his arms and legs so that he would be unable to move. Then she would skin him slowly, wetting his bare flesh from time to time to not have him drying out and dying too fast. Then she would open his abdomen, rip his intestines out and make him eat them while they're still half-fixed to his body. Then she would cut his windpipe so that he would drown in his own blood. Then she would decapitate him and give his head to her brother, and then they would get married, married, married, married…

Ukraine turned to her younger sister. _She should perhaps learn to stop mumbling things when sleeping. Or dreaming about different things._

* * *

**A/N : I messed up a bit with this chapter's end... And I realized that the important information was completely drowned in the middle of this chapter.**


	35. Mafia

**A/N : I finished my super-big literature dossier which took me ages and which has more than 70 pages. I was the only one who get it done before the deadline \(^O^)/. I'm the best.**

**...well, maybe I'm not the best, but I'm so proud that I absolutely want to tell it to everybody, even if I know you don't give a damn about my homeworks****.**

**Well, today we have Iceland's team, Denmark, Finland, Romano, and Switzerland.**

* * *

Switzerland was laid on the grass, staring at the cloudless sky.

What was he doing here ?

"Oh, big brother, you're awake."

The Swiss turned his head to see Liechtenstein smiling at him. She was sat on the grass, a book on her lap.

Oh, yeah, they had went on a picnic in the mountain.

"Ah, sorry Lili, I fell asleep..." Vash sat up, blushing. His sister chuckled, with this innocent chuckle of her. "Don't be sorry, you've been working a lot lately. I know you haven't been sleeping a lot, so you should rest for once."

"…_land."_

Switzerland sighed and laid down again. She was right, he worked a lot (he would never admit that he worked too much though), and a little more sleep was more than welcome. After all, it was a warm summer day, a very good day for a picnic _and _a nap. The sun was shining, and the green mountains around him were beautifully lightened. A light, warm breeze was blowing. On the horizon, the Barrier of Permanent Neutrality could be seen, protecting the territory from any invasion. The atmosphere was so peaceful…

"…_erland."_

Far from any fight…

"SWITZERLAND !"

Vash grabbed the gun he had put next to him and aimed at the man bent above him. "Wow ! Calm down ! It's only me !" the guy said while stepping back.

Switzerland blinked when he recognized the nation in front of him. "Finland ? What happened ?"

"Romano came back with the guys who will help us to travel… I had to wake you up… But now, please, lower your gun ! You'll shoot me !"

The Swiss put his pistol back in his pocket. _A dream, _he thought. _This peaceful landscape was just a dream, and I'm back in this dark, dirty, __cold__ dead-end, chased after by all the polices of the world, and dealing with __mafiosi_. At 7 PM, Lovino had managed to get a gang he knew which accept to deal with them. There, the party had said goodbye to their families and friends, had left the sewer and had arrived in a small backyard where trash bags were piling up. Though the odor was much more bearable here, the snow-covered ground wasn't really a comfortable mattress, and Vash's light jacket was hardly protecting him from the harsh cold of the winter.

"What time is it ?" he asked before blowing in his fist to warm his numbed hand up.

"Eer... Quarter past ten PM."

"I only slept three hours !" It was less than enough to recover from the previous night.

"Yeah, Denmark and Finland slept three hours too, Iceland slept one hour, and I didn't sleep _at all _!" an angry voice retorted.

Romano entered the alley, followed by three men in black suits. Iceland left the dustbin he was using as a seat and walked toward the newcomers. After being bawled out by Denmark a few hours earlier, he had recovered his cool personality and hadn't cried again. To be true, at Switzerland's surprise, he was an amazing leader. Iceland wasn't only hiding his emotions; he wasn't feeling any fear _at all_. He was just thinking about going ahead, in a mechanical way which was nearly frightening.

What was he saying again ? Ah yeah. Iceland walked to the couple of Mafiosi, his expression blank. But before the little country could say anything, one of them spoke up.

"We've been told by our boss to help you to go to Iceland. Please follow us."

Without waiting any answer, the guy turned around and walked away.

"Can we trust them ?" Iceland asked to the Italian in an undertone. It was a little too easy in his opinion. It looked a little too much like an American movie too.

"_Sì, _there are a bunch of bastards like them at my place who tried once to get in my way while I was seriously pissed. They've never got over it. And apparently, rumors spread fast in the Mob."

The light-haired boy nodded, then followed the Mafioso, only too happy to say goodbye to the tag–covered walls of the backyard. The rest of the party followed him. Two luxurious limousines with tinted glass were parked at the entry of the dead-end.

Switzerland took a look at his teammates. _Everybody seems so tired, _he thought. They were all doing an awesome job at hiding it, but without their pride, they would all be on the floor crying. They all had left people they loved behind them… And apparently, none of them had managed to get a real sleep. They had dark bags under their eyes. Eyes which were blank and lifeless. _Does I look like this too ? _Vash thought while reaching the limousine.

"Please get into." the human said while indicating the first car.

Iceland complied, followed by Romano and Switzerland. Two of the gangsters got into their car, while the third one took the second limo with Denmark and Finland. When they were all sat, the driver started his car and the man on the passenger seat handed them a pack of clean clothes.

"We'll give you your weapons when we'll be in Iceland. Traveling with them would be too risky." Romano and Switzerland grunted. No big weapons for now. How deceiving.

Sighing in fatigue and/or annoyance, Iceland and Lovino began to change their clothes. Vash's eyes suddenly widened. _Oh, __Gott_… He opened his zipper and glanced at his pants, then sighed in relieve. He had been intelligent (or lucky) enough to not wear the _pink _pants Liechtenstein had sewed him for his last birthday.

After he had changed his clothes, Switzerland sat down on the leather seat of the limousine. Now that he was in a comfortable outfit – a T-shirt, a sweatshirt and jeans -, he wanted to sleep even more than before. It was 2 o'clock in the morning at his place, and like most of the European countries, he had woken up at 3 o'clock in the morning. He was just wondering if it was because of the jet lag, because they had slept on the floor of the meeting room or because this crybaby of Italy hadn't wanted to stop crying.

Trying to fight against the lack of sleep, he looked through the tinted glass and admired the beauty of Washington at night. Even at this hour, the city was full of life : humans were walking in the streets, chatting, joking, speaking about going to a bar or watching a film. Christmas decorations were fixed on the street lights and in the store windows, illuminating the pavement. Children were launching snowballs on their friends, laughing happily. _If only we could do the same, _the Swiss thought while the car was leaving the city. It wasn't like if he wanted to soaked himself doing a stupid snowball battle with a bunch bunch of stupid countries. He was just saying that he would like to be at home and to not have to be permanently on his guard. He was beyond the age of playing with snow. Unlike a certain Prussian, he hadn't the mental age of a five-years old.

A few minutes later, the two cars reached an airport. The Mafioso drove towards a gate on which an "entrance forbidden" sign was fixed. The man stopped the car, lowered his window and whispered a few words to the keeper, who nodded and opened the gate. When the car started again, Switzerland looked through the window and saw a gigantic, snowless road. Vash frowned. They couldn't possibly be... Yes, he wasn't dreaming, they were on the runway !

The limousines stopped next to a small plane. The gangsters get out, followed by the five nations.

"Nobody has gone into this plane yet. There will be passengers, of course, but we'll travel in a separated compartment."

"What about the aircrew ?"

"You don't have to worry about this." the man simply answered before climbing the stairs which were leading to the plane.

Following the Mafioso, the party got into the jet and walked between ranks of empty seats until they finally reached a compartment at the rear of the aircraft. Vash sighed in relieve when he sat in a comfortable seat next to the window. He closed his eyes and, with a last thought about Christmas and his little sister, let the sleep take him.

Around him, his teammates, as exhausted as himself, were doing the same. Even Denmark didn't need too much time to doze off.

After all, at this moment, they had all the time in the world.

* * *

**Gott (German) : God**

**A/N : Guess what ? I actually wrote this chapter before Chapter 20, and I didn't stop editing it after.**

**I hope this isn't too short.**


	36. At the White House

**A/N : I'm so sorry for not updating. Finals were followed by a major writerblock AND artblock.**

**Introducing a new OC – you don't need to learn everything about him, I just need him to make the story more realistic. But do you know how hard it is to invent a character without making any mistake with his career !? (Mainly since I'm not familiar at all with the American scholar system... Sigh... If I made any mistake please tell it.)**

* * *

Ryan Adkins hurtled down the stairs, panting heavily from the long run he had been doing in the corridors of the White house. At the end of the stairs, he tried to take the bend but wasn't able to slow down – where are the breaks when you need them ? - and raised his forearm before his face to avoid a painful collision between his nose and the wall. His shoulder met the partition with a thud. Ignoring the light pain in his arm, he went on running, hearing the blood drumming at his temples.

He was in the sh*t up to the neck.

Ryan was born during the winter of 1976, in a hospital of Boston. Smart and dynamic, he was a resourceful boy who always knew who he had to call to solve his problem. Only child, loved and spoiled by his parents, he had very soon developed an immoderate egoism. Why should he work when he could get somebody else do it in his place ?

As soon as he had entered elementary school, he had used all his creativity finding some new ways to cheat during tests, copy his neighbor's homework, or make his classmates do all the work when they had to work in groups. He had went on with this lazy lifestyle for three years, driving his successive teachers nuts.

But at the age of nine, something had happened.

It was Christmas. All his family had come to their house because it was the bigger. He was having dinner with his cousins when he had spotted a candle within easy reach. To impress his younger relatives, he had quickly passed his hand in the flame – he knew it wasn't dangerous as long as he didn't let his fingers in the flame for more than a second. The trick had had the desired effect; his cousins had asked him to do it again. He did. And had knocked the candle back on the tablecloth. Which had ignited.

And with that, in this cold night of Christmas, his house had burned.

Because of him, his grandfather had died, three of his cousins had been seriously injured, and his mother would have those burn scars tattooed on her face until her death.

This day, while the firefighters had brought him and his family to the hospital, he had sworn something to himself.

From that day on, he would never make anybody else pay for his errors.

He began to work. That wasn't easy; working was something completely new for him. But he made some efforts, clinging everyday to that promise he had made this day. Happily, his intelligence and good memory allowed him to recover the three years of school he had "missed". During middle school, he had become passionate about history and geography and, later, laws. After leaving high school, he had entered university, and four years of efforts had been rewarded : at the age of twenty-two, he had got a diploma of Master of Laws, and had begun his career as a lawyer. There he could defend people against the twisted world of laws and judicial procedures, and therefore be useful.

But that wasn't enough. Ryan not only wanted to be useful, he wanted to change the way the things were – in a way that most of the people would call ambitious. Only three years later, he had decided that the best way to fight uselessness was to take the place of incompetent people. Obvious result, he had ceased all his activities as a lawyer and had thrown himself headlong into politics. Active, obstinate and sociable, he had quickly climbed the ladder and in the previous year, he had eventually ended up Director of Communications at the White House, as well as Good Friend of the President, which wasn't exactly an official position but which was often useful.

And right now, said Director of Communications at the White House was in the sh*t up to the neck.

Ryan was spending the worst day of work of his life – well, two days, but since he had barely managed to sleep it was just like one day from his point of view. It had begun the morning before, when a bunch of self-proclaimed freelance journalists had contacted the most serious newspapers of the country – and foreign journals as well.

They were offering an article which revealed that Alfred F. Jones, a young guy working God-knows-where at the government, was actually the _incarnation_ of the United States of America. Supporting evidence. Same treatment for half of the countries in this world. No need to say that the editorial boards of the concerned newspaper had jumped at the scoop.

And after that, a few dozens of governments had to give some explanations.

In theory, as the Director of the Communications of the White House, it was Ryan's job to answer the public's questions. In practice, he had to give the media something to write without giving any real explanation. Well, even if he had wanted to give some information, he would have been unable to do it. About this nation representatives story, he was as ignorant as a five-year-old kid – and he hadn't gotten the slightest piece of explanation from his superiors. For once, it was a good thing that journalists were very good at inventing crazy-but-yet-credible stories to fill their pages.

To make short, the day hadn't really begun well. Far from it.

But the situation had been getting worse at breakneck speed since the next morning. The next morning, when the hand-picked mediator who had to deal with the bunch of armed, edgy _nations_, had found himself to be a traitor. Not only they had lost the little control they had on the situation, but their diplomatic relationships with the Austrian Government had become quite... tense.

In the afternoon, the atmosphere reigning at the white house could only be described by one word : panic. Total, authentic panic. Ryan was seeing his colleague arguing over futile things, bombarding each others with questions, trying their best to keep their cool when they didn't receive any answer. Phones were ringing continuously, orders were launched by God-knows-who, swears and yells could be heard from the other side of the building, people were running everywhere, more than once jostling each other and dropping heavy heaps of paper which scattered across the corridors.

The icing on the cake was what had happened in the evening, when the SWAT had been sent to arrest those so-called "nations". Officially, the government had taken full responsibility for the massacre which had followed. In truth, nobody had ever given such an order. It had taken twenty minutes to the CIA to find out that the President's telephone line had been used by somebody else.

There was a mole at the government. Or a bad apple among the higher officials. More likely the latter.

Add to that a broken coffee machine, a far-too-zealous security, and a heavy headache due to the lack of sleep, and you get ? You get ? A complete inability to concentrate. Muuuch needed right now.

Splaf. A collision with something (or was it somebody ?) brought Ryan back to reality. He managed to keep his balance and not to drop the file of confidential data he held in his left hand, but the same couldn't be told about the poor secretary he had collided into. The young woman had slid on the tiled floor and had broken one of her high-heel. Quickly apologizing, Ryan ran past her, ignoring the colored string of insult she was launching at him out of exhaustion and nervosity.

Finally, the young politician caught sight of the man he wanted to see. "Mister President !" he tried to shout from the other side of the corridor, but because he was completely out of breath it just came out as a pitiful croak. He was about to yell again when a feminine voice interrupted him. "Is there something you need, Mr. Adkins ?" it asked with a cold tone.

Ryan turned around to see a tall old woman staring at him like if he was some sort of insect.

"Sorry, Mrs. Lindsay, but I'm afraid that I might talk to the President in person. Not to his secretary." he answered, hiding the fear in his voice. Even though he wasn't a coward, the personal secretary of the President was indeed scary. Brown hair beginning to turn gray, cold piercing steel eyes, a permanent scowl which showed how much she despised the world, a voice which made you feel like a paralyzed rat about to be eaten by a snake. A snake. That was it. She made him think about a dust-colored cobra staring at him from the top of a rock.

"Well then," the reptilian woman answered. "you can try talking to him, but good luck with obtaining an answer. He's completely overwhelmed by the situation." she added before walking away, probably to terrorize some of her subordinates. Poor ones.

After this brief and useless conversation, Ryan turned back to where he had seen the President, only to find that he wasn't here anymore. _Bitch, _he said in his inner self, thinking about the detestable secretary.

In the right pocket of his pants, his mobile phone began to ring, giving him another reason to sigh in annoyance, which he didn't stop himself from doing. He grabbed the electronic device and brought it to his ear. "Hello ?" he groaned, leaning against the wall and rubbing his temples with his free hand.

"Mr. Adkins !" Ryan straightened up when he recognized the voice of his own secretary. Maybe he could finally get some good news. "I'm sorry, but I think I'll have to add some bad news to the list..." Or maybe not.

"No need to apologize, you're not responsible of this avalanche of troubles. Just go straight to the point." he answered. Oh, how much he wanted to be in his bed right now.

"Well... The FBI didn't manage to find who used the President's phone line. The young man taken hostage at Washington had been found dead in the stolen car, in a forest. An airport not far from it got it security system hacked. It was later attacked by some unknown persons - the cameras were inactive and the only witnesses are dead. But in my opinion, it was the same persons which took the boy hostage. They took flight with a stolen plane and crossed the border half an hour ago. The rest of those... _incarnated nations _hadn't been found yet. That's all."

Ryan stood still a few seconds, assimilating the information he had just heard. "Wait a minute. You said that they had crossed the border half an hour ago, right ? Just _how much time _it took you to react and call me ?"

"It took quite some time to check everything - the police didn't want to communicate questionable information. And the director of the airport wasn't very cooperative. He's probably afraid for his post and reputation..."

Ryan nodded. "And did you find what I asked you ?"

"Alfred F. Jones' phone number ? Yes. I'll send it to you later on a secured line."

"One last thing... the medias are strangely behaving, did you manage to invent an explanation ?"

"Ah, yes ! I'm quite proud of it for once. We said that the SWAT were after a bunch of terrorist, that it was confidential, that we managed to arrest most of them, and that the hostage-taker were the ones who managed to escape. Big lie that everybody will take, as usual."

"The bigger the lie is, the easier the people will take it." Ryan answered.

"You should avoid quoting Hitler, boss. It's not really good for your reputation."

"I know, I know. But you have to admit that it's pretty adapted to the situation." And with that, he hung up.

* * *

**A/N : Review anyone ? *puppy eyes***

**Hetalia © Hidekaz Himaruya.**

**This fanfiction © me.**


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